


Dream of Eden

by sadwendigo



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Religious, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Biting, Blood Drinking, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mating Bond, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Crowley, Protective Crowley, Reincarnation, Religious Guilt, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwendigo/pseuds/sadwendigo
Summary: Aziraphale was supposed to bless a home, he binds a demon to him instead. The church is not going to like this.--“I like your dream, you know,” he whispered against the demon’s neck. The words buzzed against his skin, vibrating through Crowley’s whole body. He growled, unable to keep his pleasure to himself. “Your dream of Eden. Can it be my dream too?”“Angel, it’s only worth dreaming if you’re there with me.”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 752
Kudos: 1090
Collections: Dark Crowley, Tip Top Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, I'm going to drop this off here.

> _Though I turn, I fly not —_
> 
> _I cannot depart;_
> 
> _I would try, but try not_
> 
> _To release my heart._
> 
> _And my hopes are dying_
> 
> _While, on dreams relying,_

_I am spelled by art._

_Thus the bright snake coiling_

_’Neath the forest tree_

_Wins the bird, beguiling,_

_To come down and see:_

_Like that bird the lover_

_Round his fate will hover_

_Till the blow is over_

_And he sinks — like me_

**_-Edgar Allan Poe_ **

* * *

Aziraphale walked down the dark halls of the church wearing a solemn face. The smells of incense wafted through the air, causing a tight pinch in his heart. Prayers and chants were incessantly mumbled from different rooms, each full of men bowed and their hands pressed together. For a place supposedly filled with the love of God, it carried a somber weight. Color was only found when the sun hit against the stain-glass windows, giving life to the church. Aziraphale would stand underneath the rainbow of warm light, letting it cast hues of shadows over himself. He had followed the ways of God, followed the church leader Gabriel and still-- he felt lost. His white robes brushed against the ancient-stone floors of the church, his bare feet chilled by the coldness below.

Aziraphale was brought to the church as an orphan. His mother had passed away from an incurable sickness that Gabriel had later told him, was resulted from sin. They opened their arms to Aziraphale, under the condition that he’d devote his entire life to God alone. It was an easy decision for a six-year-old boy to make, especially one so hungry. He simply had nowhere else to go. **His name was Ezra back then,** changed to Aziraphale once he became an _“angel”_ of the church. It was merely a title that meant he had graduated in training and was granted permission to travel and perform healings, blessings, and prayers. His prayers didn’t always work, but that reflected his own lack of faith and nothing more, or so he had been taught. But it wasn’t all bad, and the church was a beautiful piece of art itself, and Aziraphale loved art. The church was the center of life in Tadfield, and it stretched up towards the Heavens, like arms reaching for God. While Aziraphale had lessons and strict rules to adhere to, he had food and a place to lay his head. People looked up to him too, sometimes the children in the village even left him gifts

The scariest part of it all was the casting out of demons. Sometimes, a sick person would come and claim to be possessed, but that was only work for the master himself, Gabriel. Gabriel loved casting out evil spirits, loved to use his whips of righteousness and his strength. Aziraphale had only witnessed one exorcism, one was certainly enough. The sound of screams and tears for mercy went unheard, and sometimes the human possessed would simply pass on. It put even more fear into Aziraphale’s heart and he vowed he’d never become a deacon in the church, the angel title was more than he could want.

He was thirty now, and life had seemed to pass him by so quickly. He could hardly remember being the small child that was left on the church’s doorsteps all those years ago. Aziraphale could hardly remember last week if he was being honest. When he made it to the sanctuary room he saw Gabriel kneeled in front of the cross, arms outstretched in meditation. Aziraphale walked down the carpeted path in between the empty pews. It felt like walking down the parted, red sea, the velvetiness of the carpet brushing against his bare feet. Aziraphale stood behind the master of the church, waiting to be addressed instead of interrupting. That was a rule he’d known to follow, interruption cost more than a train of thought, it cost him a night in the cellar under the church.

“Ah, Aziraphale,” Gabriel finally spoke. He pushed himself off the ground with ease and turned to face him. Gabriel was a very tall man, and a very intimidating one too. He always wore his robes, crown, and beads like a true decoration of the building. “I have an assignment for you, very important.”

“Master?” Aziraphale nodded, hoping it was an easy blessing or something else that required little time. 

“We’ve been getting letters from a woman who lives on the edge of the village. Her home has been under attack from the enemy, our adversary.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but swallow the saliva that pooled in his mouth. It sounded like demonic work, work which he was not cut out for. Before he could say anything he had to let Gabriel finish.

“We’re sending you to bless the house and pray a hedge of protection around her. Don’t give me that nervous face Aziraphale, you’re ready.”

“Um, you know, if the uh, opposition shows up, what should I do?”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Gabriel said, “She just seems to be an older woman with too much time on her hands. We’re sending you out there to ease her mind, or, what’s left of it anyway. And besides, you are a child of the Almighty, you are protected.”

_-_-_

A carriage came to take Aziraphale to the edge of town. The ride took a good while, making the anxiety all the more intense as he sat in silence. Gabriel had said there was nothing to worry about, but the thought of entering a cottage placed in the woods was unnerving enough. Demons terrified Aziraphale, he had been taught to fear them after all. He had seen what Gabriel did to those inflicted with the evil spirits. Aziraphale had a cross wrapped around his neck, absently reaching for it every other minute.

A full hour went by before the carriage stopped. Aziraphale made his way out, looking over towards the sad cottage cradled by a thick wood. The moon magnificently shone down, welcoming him to this part of Tadfield. It didn’t help his poor nerves. There was a stone path that led to the metal gate around the building. He tried his best to stay on the path, but the stones were placed far apart, and he didn't feel like skipping. Aziraphale knocked on the wooden door twice before an older woman answered. Her hair was blonde, her clothes were colorful, and she had a kind smile.

“You must be the angel,” she said, pushing the door open even further to let Aziraphale in. He gave a weak smile and nodded his head as he entered her home. It smelled of different perfumes mixed together, and stuffed animals lined the shelves. The lighting was dim and some corners of the cottage were completely dark.

“Tell me, madam, why would you like a blessing over your home?”

“It’s a demon. The pesky thing keeps bothering me,” she said as if she were talking about a naughty cat. “It throws my stuff off walls, shatters glass, and even shoved my husband down on one occasion.”

Aziraphale’s polite face shifted into discomfort. 

“Y-you’re sure it’s a demon?” He cleared his throat, puffing out his chest to seem more equipped to handle the situation. He was wearing the church garments which meant he had to do his best. There was no way he could allow his personal shortcomings to affect how the people saw the church. 

“Oh yes,” she said, waving her hands around her face. “I summoned one to do my bidding, but it didn’t quite work.”

“You- you- what?”

“That was a joke,” she said after laughing. Aziraphale’s shoulders relaxed a little, only a little. “I was trying to speak with the deceased, but I found a demon instead.”

Aziraphale could tell that she was serious. His blue eyes looked around her home once more, taking in symbols and tarot cards on the table, and candles illuminating old books of spells. Aziraphale was in trouble. As a member of the church, one could not associate with witches or anything to do with dark magic. His throat felt dry and his breathing became difficult. It was as if the air was tainted and if he breathed too much of it he could be stained with sin.

“Oh look,” she said, seeing the man’s discomfort, “the whole town knows I’m a witch, everyone but my husband knows. I just want the blessing and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Um,” Aziraphale knew he should refuse, but his empathy wouldn’t let him ignore this woman. Perhaps it was all in her mind like Gabriel had said. “Alright, dear, please exit the home and I shall call you when I’m finished.”

“Please call me Madame Tracy,” and she winked as she grabbed her coat and closed the door. Aziraphale took a deep breath of dried flowers and burning incense. Madame Tracy's house held a very different feel from the church, it lit a fire deep inside his belly and caused his eyes to water. Something smelled like hellfire, something smelled evil. Aziraphale pulled out his bottle of holy water and raised his arms above his head.

“I bless this house,” he said aloud, his voice firm and his belief strong. He flicked the water from his hands, hearing the splatter hit the floor and furniture around him. He continued on until he was nearly out of holy water, throwing drops on the table to his right. Something hissed like a snake, causing Aziraphale to drop the glass bottle he held. The remaining holy water stained the floor and pieces of glass had shattered like a puzzle that couldn’t be put together again. He bent down to grab a piece of the glass, feeling foolish he had dropped something so fragile. His finger cut against a sharp edge, causing red liquid to pour out and fall like rose petals. Smoke began to erupt from beneath the table like a fire had been put out.

“What on earth,” Aziraphale mumbled to himself, checking over the table to see what was going on. He looked down at his cut finger, noting that it could have been worse, but he was making such a mess in this woman’s home. Realizing it wasn’t the table, but rather underneath, he pushed it away to reveal a summoning circle that he had stepped in the middle of. His blood dripped down onto the symbols, giving the swirls of text life. The circle began to glow and Aziraphale hurriedly jumped out like he had been burned. He got down on his knees and began to pray, hoping that God would hear him, save him.

A laugh deep and full spilled out from the shadows and all at once, the candles were blown out. Aziraphale’s whole body shivered in terror, his mind on the verge of splitting into pieces. He wanted to get up, to run as far as he could from the home, but his legs wouldn’t budge. A hiss was heard again, much like a snake, and as Aziraphale peered into the darkness he could see the glowing golden eyes slithering towards him.

  
“Get back, hellish fiend,” Aziraphale shouted, grabbing at the cross necklace around his neck. He held it out in his shaky hands, fearing for his soul.

“What’ssss that meant to do,” the snake spoke, wrapping its body around Aziraphale’s knelt position. The demonic voice didn't seem afraid of Azirpahle's threat, if anything there was amusement in his hissing. 

“You cannot touch me, I am a child of God!”

Suddenly Aziraphale could no longer feel the slithering scales on his body, could no longer hear the hissing of a snake. He had thought for an optimistic moment his words had worked. Aziraphale tried to move his body, but he felt pinned against his will. A snap echoed in the empty house and suddenly all the candles around the home were lit. Aziraphale came face to face with a man, a demon with the same eyes as the snake. His wings were black, blacker than the deepest hour of night, and his smile showed off his fangs. He was beautiful, but then again, the Lord had said the devil was beautiful. 

“Not anymore,” his voice was rich and alluring, he reached for the cross necklace around Aziraphale’s neck and jerked it off with ease. He let it fall to the floor reaching out to grab the blonde’s cut finger. Aziraphale couldn’t move, couldn’t argue, it was like his body was in a trance. The demon brought the cut to his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the spilled blood.

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale found that he could still speak. 

“Now, you’re mine, Aziraphale.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blown away by all of the comments this fic has received. I'm so happy people are enjoying this so far. I plan to update my other fic soon, to those who are wondering! I love you guys, happy reading!

Aziraphale felt warmth travel from his fingertips down to his toes. He could only stare in shock as he watched the demon’s serpentine tongue wrap around his finger. It felt good, it shouldn’t have felt good. Fear brought Aziraphale back, fear always brought him back to reality. He jerked his hand away, feeling his body regaining power once again. He could feel the demon’s chest rumble with laughter, could see his terrible fangs in the dim light.

“Enough,” he ordered, trying to push himself off the floor. Aziraphale reached for his cross necklace that had been thrown to the side, holding it up again to buy him more time. The demon looked at him with an amused expression before standing up from his hunched position on the floor. He was taller than Aziraphale and though his body was thin like a serpent, his dominance radiated perfectly well. “Get thee behind me, foul fiend! You’ve no power over me.”

“Oh,” he hissed, moving as if gravity worked differently on his body. He circled the blonde, staring at him with his glowing eyes. “Oh, but I do, angel.”

The demon reached out to grab the collar of Aziraphale’s white robe and tugged him closer. Aziraphale let out a slight gasp as he watched the haunting demonic eyes, the eyes of a true predator. In the midst of everything, he racked his brain for an explanation as to why his cross had no effect. It should have repelled the demon, his commands should have worked.

“You won’t call me foul anymore,” he hissed in displeasure. “You will call me by my name, Crowley.”

“No!” Aziraphale shouted. He knew never to speak a demon’s name, he was taught it gave the entity a certain type of power over the house or home it was spoken in. While it seemed likely that Madame Tracy had already said it aloud, Aziraphale wouldn’t make that mistake. The demon pushed him against the closest wall, keeping a tight grip on the collar of his clothes. The blonde had dropped his cross necklace again, hearing the clink as it fell to the floor. It hadn’t hurt, not like Aziraphale was anticipating, but it startled him. He knew this demon could do a lot more than push him against a wall if he wanted to. The lighting was darker in this corner of the home, the candlelight flickered across his face in waves.

“You don’t know how this works, do you?” Crowley stated, rather than asked. “Your blood remains on the summoning circle, and the taste of it is still on my tongue. You’ve made a pact with me whether you wanted to or not, it matters little. There are three options for a human bold enough to summon a demon, we’re not pets.”

The horror flashed across Aziraphale’s face, remembering the cut on his finger and the blood that had fallen. He couldn’t deny that it happened, but surely God would protect him? He hadn’t meant to summon Crowley, it was never in his mind.

“What options?”

“The most common ending is that we eat the human and gain more wisdom and power. The second is I possess your body and wreak havoc on the other mortals, dragging as many souls as I can back with me to Hell.”

The grip on Aziraphale’s collar lightened, and soon a warm hand brushed against the side of the blonde’s face. The contact made Aziraphale shiver, but he was too afraid to move, for fear of being possessed. Images flashed in his mind of Gabriel beating the people who had come claiming sanctuary being exorcised to death. Crowley brought his finger down and traced the shape of the man’s lips, pulling the bottom lip open with his thumb. Something about his hands felt familiar, but Aziraphale had never been in such a position before.

“The third option is hardly ever put into practice,” the demon spoke again. It seemed like a whole eternity had passed and that this nightmare would never end. “But it’s what I’m choosing to do with you.”

Aziraphale took in the serpent’s words, fearing the third option to be the worst of all. He let in a deep breath, lungs filling with the scent of smoke and heat, like embers on a fire. If he was going to get out of this, he would have to buy himself more time.

“What is the third option?”

“Well, it’s no fun if I just tell you,” Crowley said in a teasing way. “But you humans take too long to catch up. You will become _bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh_ , Aziraphale. All I have to do to seal it is to give you my bite, my mark.”

Aziraphale instantly recognized the Adam and Eve reference and it made his legs shake. It was like this creature of Hell knew the bible, and Gabriel had taught him that no demon would. It was a power that humans, that Christians had over them, that they could speak the word of God and watch them dissipate. Crowley’s offer wasn’t something he wanted to think about, wasn’t something he could handle. If what he claimed was true, why was he special? Why would a demon want him? There was no way he could overpower the demon, not when his faith was starting to crack. He would have to outwit his way to freedom. Aziraphale thought he could play along with the demon’s game until he stood closer to the exit.

“I take it that would be a great honor?” Aziraphale nervously smiled, side-stepping his way to the left. Crowley watched him move, but he didn’t try to reach out again, at least not yet.

“Well, it’s a lot better than dying,” the demon smirked. His snake eyes trailed down from the angel’s blue eyes to his neck. “You won’t enjoy dying, it's not a pleasant thing.” Aziraphale tried to be casual about walking to the opened part of the home near the summoning circle where the binding took place. The lights that shone through the cracked wood had faded, but the symbols remained. He looked back up at Crowley briefly to find the demon staring back at him with an eyebrow raised. There was a knock on the door, a knock which Aziraphale figured was Madame Tracy. He hadn’t kept track of time and a good amount must have passed since he had asked her to step out. Crowley let out a hissing sigh, clearly unhappy about being interrupted.

“Everything alright in there, dearie?”

“Tickety boo!” Aziraphale yelled out, while he rushed to the door. This distraction was what he needed. He fumbled with the handle only looking back once to find that the demon hadn’t moved to stop him. Crowley had a confused expression on his face. Aziraphale gave a victorious smirk at him before he slammed the door shut.

“Tickety-boo?” Crowley whispered in the empty house.

-_-_-

“Goodness me, dear, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Madame Tracy said as she studied the angel’s face. “That bad, huh?”

“Madame,” Aziraphale replied, practically running away from the door. “I’ll have to come back with professional help.” He hurried his way to the waiting carriage and ordered the driver to get a move on.

“But I thought—” Madame Tracy yelled out after the carriage. “Oh, well then.”

Aziraphale’s anxiety started to creep its way to the surface after his escape. Being alone in the bumping carriage made everything seem real. He looked at his finger to find no trace of a cut left behind, and it made him wonder if everything had been an elaborate illusion. Perhaps it was a test set up by Gabriel himself to judge if Aziraphale was worthy of becoming a deacon? But when he thought back to the alluring way Crowley moved, talked, and felt, he doubted a human like that could actually exist. It was getting harder to breathe with the amount of fear that shook his body. Would the others at church be able to sense his error? How could he let his own blood be shed and consumed by an actual demon? None of this was supposed to happen, he had dedicated his life to the church, and if felt world-shattering to fail now.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, a tightness in his chest pinched so strong that he felt he was dying. Aziraphale wanted to ask the driver to stop the carriage to let him out for air, but he feared stopping would allow the demon to catch him. His ears started to ring, the only other time he had gotten this bad was when he witnessed an exorcism. His body lurched forward, mouth opened like he was coughing for oxygen to enter his lungs. He fell to the floor of the carriage, body shaking violently like never before. Suddenly arms enveloped him from behind and pulled him back against a warm chest. Aziraphale found himself sitting on the Crowley’s lap as the demon stroked his neck with light touches.

“Easy, angel,” his voice whispered. Aziraphale could feel his hot breath against his ear, making him shudder against the demon. “Breathe for me, I command it.”

Aziraphale could feel his lungs welcoming air again, could feel his body relaxing despite his racing mind. He couldn’t understand why the demon was helping him with his panic attack, but he tried not to think too hard on it. He had never been held before, and not by another man certainly. The heat that radiated off the demon wasn't unpleasant like he was expecting, rather, it felt affectionately warm. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock when he felt the demon’s hot tongue brush against the side of his neck. Something in him snapped, like a revelation had been within his grasp, and then ripped away in a second. He jumped out from the demon’s embrace, moving to sit on the seat across from him.

“How did you?!”

“You can’t escape me, angel,” Crowley said. “ _Not this time_ , **_not ever_**.”

The driver had gone over a large bump in the road, causing Aziraphale to lose his balance, falling forward into Crowley’s welcoming embrace.

“There, there, Aziraphale, here’s where you belong.”

The blonde tried to push himself back up, but Crowley held him tightly against his chest. After Aziraphale refused to cease his struggling the demon opened his arms, letting the angel go.

“Must you fight me?”

“Don't act like it hurts your feelings,” Aziraphale replied. “I’m an angel of the church, I won’t be tempted.”

Crowley’s snake eyes narrowed and he leaned forward to get closer at the blonde’s face. In the moonlight from the window of the carriage, Aziraphale’s breath caught at how beautiful the demon was. His red hair and golden eyes, though inhuman and unnatural, looked stunning up close. The way he moved, the way his voice sounded, all added to him being a walking temptation.

“No,” Crowley said, unblinking eyes focused down on him. “You’re mine.”

“No, I’m not!” Aziraphale shot back. He moved himself up off the floor and sat opposite the demon. His back pressed into the side of the carriage, trying to create as much distance as possible. “I’m going to get help from the church, you won’t be able to follow me on consecrated ground. Plenty of holy water waiting for you there.”

“You can’t leave my side,” Crowley replied, ignoring the angel’s threats. “It’s not safe for you.”

“You think I’m going to believe I’m safe with a demon?”

“When the demon is me, yes.”

The carriage had stopped and the door was thrown open by a man dressed in ceremonial robes. His eyes burned with hatred and without speaking he dipped his whip into holy water and lashed it at the demon. Crowley hissed, darting the droplets and then disappearing from sight altogether. Gabriel’s whip had flipped backward at the force used and welted against Aziraphale’s leg.

The blonde howled out in pain but didn’t have much time to act on it before he was being grabbed by Gabriel. Aziraphale was roughly thrown inside, his body falling harshly on the stone floor of the church. The thick doors slowly closed, taking away the moon’s gentle light and leaving him with darkness. Sandalphon stood close by holding a large staff with twelve candles, giving a little glow to the main area. The church leader poured the remaining holy water at the entrance, praying and speaking protection over the church.

“Aziraphale, are you alright?” Gabriel asked, turning to look down at the shaking man on the floor. “I was praying and could feel a strong demonic presence close by. I saw your carriage and figured you were in trouble.”

“T-Thank you so much, master,” Aziraphale said as he moved to a bowing position. His leg stung badly, but he ignored the pain. He was used to ignoring pain.

“Are you possessed,” Sandalphon asked, voice as cold as ever.

“No, I-I was saved in time.”

The look on Gabriel’s face was a mix between disgust and disappointment. Aziraphale felt so ashamed he had to look away.

“Well, perhaps you weren’t ready,” Gabriel said. “Go to your room and fast for the week, beg for forgiveness and we’ll send another to take care of it. Pray, Aziraphale, let your sins be washed clean, and then when you feel ready, come to me. If I find you breaking the fast, or see a moment where you’re not repenting, you know the punishment.”

“Yes, master, thank you, you are so kind. God bless you,” Aziraphale said, relying on adrenaline to lift himself up and rush to his private quarters. He didn’t dare look back, he had been trained not to. As he hurried down the dark hall he could feel Gabriel’s stare following him. He had failed the church leader, which meant he would be on a watch list. Aziraphale tried to swallow but found that his throat was dry. Once he was out of sight he began to limp, wincing at the pain in his leg. He had been hit with a whip before, but it had been a long time since then.

Aziraphale shut the door to his room, slowly falling to the ground. He could hear the nuns singing above him, their hymnals mumbled from being rooms away. He pulled at his robes, lifting the fabric up, examining three deep welts torn open across his skin. They looked bad, and blood was staining the white of his clothes. He wondered if Crowley was hit too. Holy water, if used in large amounts could kill a demon, could erase them from existence, or so he’d been told. He didn't want the demon to be erased, he just couldn't explain why. Some part of him wanted to be held like that again, but he quickly repressed and prayed those thoughts away. He stood up from the floor, limping to the window of his room. He had been given one of the nicer rooms in the church, one with a twin-sized bed and a large window. Aziraphale sat and looked out at the gates of the church, noticing a familiar red-headed figure.

Black wings were splayed out in fury with feathers shimmering as the moon’s light fell on them. Crowley was pacing back and forth like an angry tiger in a cage. He walked from side to side of the church’s gate, prowling like a beast that wanted blood. It appeared that he couldn't enter the church, almost like a force held him back. He stopped his pacing and looked directly at Aziraphale through his dirty window. Aziraphale’s breath caught, but he couldn’t look away.

Crowley lifted his finger and beckoned for Aziraphale to come. His golden serpentine eyes dared the blonde to defy him. Aziraphale shook his head no and moved away from the window. He got down on his knees beside the bed, head buried in his hands and began to pray. He wasn’t praying for forgiveness, or for the safety of the church, he was praying for himself. He was praying to find strength again because a growing part of him wanted to answer Crowley’s call.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I had to write this whole chapter twice. The first time I wrote it, the file crashed. As annoying as it was, I'm happy to be able to update again so soon. I just want to say thank you for all the comments! I loved reading each and every one. Thank you for following my work and complimenting my writing. It gives me the confidence to continue. 
> 
> Also, it should be noted that Aziraphale is in a cult. I'm not claiming him to be in a regular version of Christianity. I just wanted to make that clear.

The icy water practically burned his skin as Aziraphale pressed the rag to his wound. It had been so long since he had to clean up the aftermath of a punishment, so long since he felt this crippling doubt. His blood painted the dish of water beside him, turning the liquid a murky dark red. His bottom was numb from sitting on the floor, but he didn’t have the strength to crawl into his bed. Besides, he was meant to be praying, lord only knew when one of the other members would check-in. Aziraphale didn’t bother lighting any candles, there was a small sense of comfort in the shadows of his own room. It was tight and enclosed and he had spent enough time here to know every corner without actually seeing it. He discarded his torn and blood-stained robes to the side, allowing air to touch him in places it normally didn’t. It was fine to be naked in the dark like this. Something about it felt freeing, felt familiar.

After he was finished cleaning himself off, he poured the dirty water down the drain of his sink. The faucet only offered him coldness, as heated water was a privilege, not a necessity. Aziraphale never thought to complain about it before, but his bones had grown so chilled that he lusted after warmth. Limping towards his drawers, Aziraphale pulled out an almost perfect copy of the same clothing he had on prior. All of the angels of the church wore the same plain, white robes. The color was significant, a blinding reminder of who he was and whose he was. God must not have heard his cries, must not have thought to look at the happenings in a witch’s home in Tadfield. That must have been why he ended up in this mess. That had to be the reason, and his doubt in Her cost him Gabriel’s recent trust and throbbing pain in his leg.

Oh, but he felt exhausted, worn, and freezing to the point that his teeth began to chatter. His mind steadily became more and more susceptible to unholy thoughts, like how warm Crowley’s embrace had been. Aziraphale ran his hand through his curly blonde hair, tugging on the strands as if to pull the memory from his mind. Try as he may, Aziraphale would not forget, could not forget. Not when he heard the hissing of a snake in the back of his brain. He was afraid to look out his window and witness for the umpteenth time how **_real_** Crowley was. And yet, he felt like he would go insane if he stopped looking.

“Oh Lord, please help me. You said you wouldn’t tempt us beyond what we could handle.”

_-_-_

Gabriel had the main door cracked, watching the beast stalk in front of _his_ building. Sandalphon would have been his next man for the job, only he refused to step outside at the sight of the demon’s angry wings.

“Well _it_ can’t stay here,” Gabriel argued. “People will need to enter and we can’t have them thinking we can’t even handle one demon.”

The man fixed his heavy robes, aligning his crown to be as straight as it would sit on his head. He reached for another bottle of holy water and the whip he had used earlier. Gabriel did a quick prayer over his mind so that he would not be tempted or possessed by the vile creature that watched him from the crack in the door. Feeling his usual confidence straighten up his spine, Gabriel pushed the doors open and stepped out onto the stone steps. It had to have been after midnight when Gabriel saw the brilliant glow of Crowley’s eyes. The demon looked at the whip in his hand, hissing at the sight of it. Gabriel didn’t bother hiding his smile.

Gabriel wasn’t about to show this creature weakness. He was about to show the demon his place, which was being crushed underneath his heel. The master of the church took a few steps forward, not stepping too close, still within the gates of his property.

“What’s the matter demon? Don’t you want to destroy me?” Gabriel taunted, seeing that Crowley couldn’t move any closer than he was currently standing. “This is consecrated ground, nothing which the likes of you could dare walk upon. Leave or be exorcised.”

Sandalphon had been watching from inside the church up until he heard Gabriel’s claim. Feeling a little bolder, the heavy man made his way out to stand beside his master, wanting to make up for his previous doubt. Crowley didn’t even spare him a glance. All his hatred, all his rage was locked onto the master himself.

“Away with you, demon,” Gabriel yelled, dipping his fingers into the holy water and flicking them at Crowley. The droplets missed, as Crowley had become very good at dodging the stuff in his years of experience.

“Give me my angel, beg for mercy, and I won’t burn your building to the ground.”

“You have no angel here,” Gabriel replied, already understanding the demon’s presence had something to do with Aziraphale. He wasn’t a man who liked to just hand over other people’s desires. He loved to dangle their wants in front of their face, much like a cat with a mouse. “And he didn’t seem to want you.”

“Feeling brave? Ssssstep a little closer,” Crowley hissed out, fangs on display. Sandalphon stepped back, but Gabriel grabbed onto his arm to keep him where he was. Crowley could smell Aziraphale’s dried blood on the whip the master carried, it angered him to the point of madness. Despite the burning pain that came with breaching the sacred ground, the demon reached out and grabbed Sandalphon by the neck, throwing him out of the protective area. The deacon wailed at being grabbed and thrown so suddenly. His body fell harshly on the dirt, his white clothes stained with the soil. Crowley’s face contorted in pain, as the arm that dared to reach out was covered in blue flames. The strange fire burned brightly as if it were as intense as the sun. With his free hand, Crowley created hellfire in his palm and brought it overtop the blue flames until they were choked out by the red heat. His skin started smoking as the blue flames dissipated, a nasty burn mark left behind on his entire arm. His black sleeve was burned off, revealing his charred skin all the way up to his shoulder. It looked excruciatingly morbid, but the demon hardly reacted.

Gabriel wasn’t able to look away, mortified at what had just taken place. Despite the obvious pain it brought the demon, he still crossed over, not even consecrated ground was enough to stop him. Sandalphon tried to hurry himself up off the ground, falling back down twice for lack of balance. Crowley bent down and picked him up by the collar of his shirt. Serpentine eyes kept their hold on Gabriel the entire time.

“Bring Aziraphale to me, or I kill your friend.”

Gabriel took a few steps back, fearing the demon would reach out again and grab him next. Sandalphon was pleading, tears pouring out of his eyes pathetically, mouth mumbling nonsense. Gabriel threw the rest of the container of holy water at Crowley, but the demon shoved Sandalphon in front as a shield.

“Gabriel, please master, help me!” Sandalphon cried out. He caught a glimpse of the fangs up close, and he didn’t want to die, not yet at least.

The demon knew humans well, knew evil when he saw it. He saw now that this man didn’t care what happened to the deacon, it was clear he only cared for himself. Crowley dropped the sweating human down, his unmarked arm lifting itself up, showing off his long nails.

“Seems I grabbed the wrong coward,” Crowley said, eyes burning with resolve. “Shall I try again, or will you beg in the dirt like the worm you are?”

Gabriel gnashed his teeth in fury before he decided to call for Aziraphale. He decided to dangle the mouse a little more, hoping to show the demon that he still had some control. Sandalphon had crawled back over near his feet, weeping in disgrace in front of the devil.

“Go,” Gabriel ordered, “ bring me Aziraphale.”

_-_-_

Aziraphale jumped at hearing his door thrown open. The thick wooden door slammed against the stone wall, leaving an echo that reverberated throughout his tiny room. His blue eyes looked over to Sandalphon to find his robes were dirty and wrinkled. The man was panting out of breath. The candlelight from the hall seeped in, trying to reach him, but the deacon’s body covered most of it.

“Sand—”

“Ma- Master demands you to – to meet him outside,” the deacon managed to get out. He was sweating badly and he looked as pale as a ghost. Aziraphale stood up and moved, not asking why he was being summoned. He already knew why, knew that Crowley would be out there waiting for him. Before he could go, Sandalphon grabbed his arm and pulled him close.

“Please, Aziraphale,” he begged, his eyes full of fear. “Please, make him go away.”

Aziraphale hurried down the hall, reaching out to brush his fingers against the rough stone walls. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t let the church suffer because of his unfaithfulness, because of his error.

When he stepped outside into the night again, white robes glowing in the moon’s light, he saw Crowley first. The demon’s eyes found his immediately, telling him to come without verbally speaking. Aziraphale walked down onto the path, moving to stand next to Gabriel until further orders were given. His leg was hurting him, but he couldn’t show either of them any weakness.

Gabriel looked him over, letting out a deep breath as if he were still contemplating what to do. He turned his body to Aziraphale and placed a menacing hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch him!” Crowley hissed, body ready to step into the holy ground once more. Aziraphale noticed the burning on the demon’s arm and couldn’t help but open his mouth in shock. Gabriel smiled at the demon’s outburst, happy to drink in some of that control again. Aziraphale wanted to bring his focus back to the master, wanted to get back into his good graces, but he couldn’t turn away from Crowley. The night was fading fast and the sun threatened to appear. Aziraphale didn’t want to think about the children of Tadfield crossing the demon, didn’t want them to see that their fears could be real.

“Angel,” Crowley said, as gentle as he could manage. It was still a growl in his throat, but the anger wasn't directed at Aziraphale. “Enough games, come back to me, now.”

Gabriel remained in disbelief, wondering why it was that this demon desired the angel so intensely. It couldn't just be for eating the man, not when his entire arm remained scarred and burned from the holy flames. Something dark within him began to plot, wishing for a public display of the demon’s destruction. Yet, Gabriel’s plotting stopped when from the corner of his eye he noticed Aziraphale walking forward. The demon’s hand was outstretched, fingers beckoning him to continue coming, his demonic face softening. The angel stopped right at the edge of the property, Crowley let out an almost inaudible whine, like he held his breath.

“If I go, you have to promise not to hurt the church or anyone in it,” Aziraphale demanded.

“I can’t make that promise,” Crowley replied, his eyes briefly gazing back at Gabriel.

“Crowley,” the name slipped from Aziraphale’s mouth like a spell. The demon’s eyes dilated, his mouth curved upwards into a wild grin. “I won’t come back, so there won’t be a need for you to come back either.” Aziraphale hoped it would be tempting enough for the demon to consider.

“I won’t return here, unless you’re here,” Crowley said, his words were careful as they left his tongue. It was enough. Aziraphale wasn’t fooled into thinking he had control of the demon, but he trusted Crowley, he just couldn’t explain why. Despite Gabriel’s shouting from behind, Aziraphale stepped forward and let the demon touch him.

The touch was like a healing balm, like a warmth that he had been craving. His body yearned for it, just as much as his mind was telling him no. He wanted to melt into the touch, but he didn’t want the demon to know how much pleasure he had given him, didn’t want Gabriel to see how easily he was swayed.

The golden glow of the sunrise had come and everything was painted in God’s morning light. Crowley remained in the sun, the cast of bright colors brushed strokes of orange into his dark hair, making him more beautiful than ever. Aziraphale smiled at the knowledge that Crowley was allowed to stand under the sun, despite what he had been told about demons. He didn't feel afraid of Crowley, but he was terrified of what was to come.

Crowley snapped his fingers and they dissolved in a fog of black smoke before vanishing into air.

_-_-_

_Aziraphale had never seen such bountiful land full of life and color before. There were flowers, all kinds of flowers, blanketing the ground like a carpet of rainbows. Tall trees idly swayed in the breeze, casting sporadic shade below. A waterfall flowed in the distance, its water pooling and stretching all the way down into a babbling brook near his feet. Aziraphale had never dared to dream such a place was real, his mind could have never conjured such a world of beauty. He stepped forward, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter the dream completely, pleased to find it stayed. The grass brushed against his ankles, ticking his skin in the most pleasant way. His heartbeat had taken over his hearing, forcing him to listen to nothing else but the pumps of blood in his veins._

**_Thump Thump Thump_ **

_It said in a hasty rhythm. Aziraphale walked on, his eyes searched for something, someone. An apple tree stood behind him and his body reached out before his mind caught up. He plucked the fruit off the tree, admiring the way the red color looked under the sun’s warmth._

_Tears leaked out from his eyes. Aziraphale reached up to touch his face, feeling the foreign sensation of nostalgia eat away at his peace. His tears fell onto the apple, and he couldn’t understand why that seemed significant._

Crowley cradled his angel close to his body as he bit down into his neck. Blood poured into his mouth, the taste euphoric and forbidden, but he had already known the flavor. He had already memorized the taste. When he pulled away, his golden eyes stared down at Aziraphale and brushed stray tears away, leaving the ones caught in his long lashes.

He sat on his throne, his angel dreaming in his lap.

“You are altogether beautiful, my love,” Crowley whispered in his ear. They had been words he’d said to him before, words that humans had stolen and cheapened on women to get them in their beds. “There is no flaw in you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm still not over good omens. I am happy to say another chapter is here, I hope you enjoy.

Aziraphale woke in a bed that was not his own, laid down in a sea of black sheets and pillows. He admired the way the silk felt against his skin for the tiniest second before sitting up. This bed was large, and the room that housed it was considerably larger. The walls were dark and grey without windows, green vines hung from the ceiling, and the posts of the bed. Potted plants were placed sporadically throughout the space. Candles burned all around, their smell faint with subtle notes of sweet amber. The air felt heavy, felt lonely like it had been weighed down by bad memories and sorrow.

Aziraphale brought his hand up to rub his neck, feeling the fang marks left behind. It had happened just as the demon said. He remembered leaving the church, he remembered Crowley’s touch and his voice. A small picture of a garden, more beautiful than all of life was gifted to him, and then taken away by deeper and darker sleep. He swore he dreamt of nothing but the soothing sound of Crowley’s sweet promises. He never knew he’d come to crave the warmth of a demon so fiercely, even though he was a devoted follower of God. Aziraphale sat up further, heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird, unsure of what to do next. He had no one to call out to, no one to cry to, God had abandoned him, Gabriel wouldn’t save him, and he felt too tired to help himself. He didn’t feel comfortable asking for reassurance from a demon, in fact, the idea seemed almost humorous. What made everything so difficult was the way Crowley looked at him, saw him, touched him. It made no sense for a demon to treat him with such adoration and reverence, but he did nonetheless.

Aziraphale had told the demon he’d go with him and it felt as terrifying as it was exciting. He knew what Crowley wanted and had a small idea of how badly he wanted it. It didn’t make sense, but nothing in Aziraphale’s life did anymore. God didn’t answer him, his prayers wouldn’t protect him, and that had been all he’d known. What was left but a desperate connection on the opposite side? Crowley had sunk his fangs into his flesh like thorns that pulled onto his being until the lines were blurred. He couldn’t be alone, not now or ever. He didn’t like what his mind said to him when he was alone.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the demon grinned, he entered the room with a glass in hand. He was dressed in black robes, his red hair long and wavy like the old paintings of beautiful men. Aziraphale looked at the blackened arm carrying the glass, wincing at how painful it looked. He didn't want to ask how that had happened. Crowley sat down on the side of the bed, holding out the drink to the angel. “Drink this.”

Aziraphale reached for the glass, smelling it like he’d find something off about the clear liquid. Deciding that if Crowley had wanted to poison him he would have done so by now, so he drank. The water felt painfully good going down his dry throat. He threw his head back to finish it, savoring the way it cooled his body. Crowley reached out to touch him, to feel the raised flesh of his neck. Aziraphale flinched at the unexpected touch, but didn’t move away. Golden eyes studied the marks, tracing the outline of fangs like it was the most alluring thing he’d seen.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Aziraphale asked. The demon had wanted him and here he was, but what was his future going to look like. “Where am I?”

“Hell,” the demon replied quickly. “You’re in Hell, angel, home sweet home, for now.”

The blonde’s face paled at the word. He looked around again as if expecting the room to burst into flames. Hell had always been one of his biggest fears as a child and even into adulthood. To think he had been sleeping peacefully, enjoying a glass of water in the actual inferno was too much for his mind. Crowley snapped his fingers and the empty glass refilled itself, the side dripping condensation over his shaking hand. Out of shock, he dropped the glass and it shattered to the floor. Crowley looked down at the mess with a small frown, but he didn’t discipline Aziraphale like the angel was expecting.

“Isn’t hell supposed to be painful?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. Images of men and women burning flashed in his mind. It was what he had been expecting.

“It was, for so long it was,” Crowley admitted, moving a hand over the mess and making it disappear. “Can’t you feel it? Sense it? This was the most miserable room in all of Hell.”

Aziraphale nodded, feeling his skin create goosebumps at the words leaving Crowley’s mouth. He believed them, he had no reason not to.

“Why this room?”

“This was my prison for the last 3,000 years, it’s my room.”

“You’re 3,000 years old?” Aziraphale could hardly fathom living such a long time, especially by oneself. Pity started to seep into his heart. Pity for a demon, which he didn’t think was possible.

“I’m much older than that, angel,” Crowley moved closer, looking into the depths of the blonde’s eyes. He seemed to be searching for something hidden within the cloudy blue hues of color. His gaze fell slightly when he didn’t seem to find it. “One of the first creatures in Eden.”

Aziraphale’s mind supplied the garden he had dreamt of, the feel of the sun touching his skin, and the smell of fresh earth in his nose. He knew the tale of the garden as well as any other person in the church. The tragic story of Adam and Eve seeking out the fruit they weren’t allowed. There was never any mention of a demon aside from Lucifer himself handing the apple over to the woman. With that knowledge, Aziraphale started to feel panicky again. It was one thing to be in the presence of a demon, but it was another thing entirely to be sitting next to Satan.

“Are you? Were you called by another name?” The blonde tried to ask delicately, not sure if his theory was correct. Crowley looked up at him, his snake eyes caught it the glow of the candles, revealing a hopeful stare.

“I was,” he said, taking his angel’s hand in his own. He pressed a kiss against Aziraphale’s palm that sent a shock of electricity through the blonde’s whole body. Aziraphale pulled his hand away, swallowing his first few attempts at replying.

“Was your name ever Lucifer or Satan?” He asked, demanding to know. The glimmer of hope died inside Crowley and his lips bent into a deep frown.

“No,” he said hissing as he stood to look down at the angel. “Ssssatan, you really think--?” Crowley’s voice seemed tense and full of hurt. He brought his burned hand up to rub against his temples in frustration. Something about that name seemed almost like a trigger for the demon, another thing that Aziraphale didn't think was possible. 

“Tell me then,” Aziraphale said, desperately wanting to understand. “Tell me what your story is and how it fits in with the church. You act as if you know me, like we’ve met before. My head is all jumbled up and I don’t know what’s real or not. I feel lost. I was fine with living life as it was. I could endure what I deserved. Why did you have to come claiming my life?” Aziraphale wanted to say so much more, but most of it didn’t even relate to Crowley. He wanted to yell about how he never could feel God listening to his prayers, and how he never would now. He wanted to scream out loud, asking if his life was a waste, living as a tool for the church who tossed him in the dirt over and over. He wanted to say all of that and more, but he couldn't. He could have blamed everything on the demon, yet it felt wrong. His chest heaved and his tight grip wrinkled the silk sheets underneath him. And God, was he exhausted.

Crowley didn’t reply, he didn’t seem like he knew how to. He sat back down on the bed and pulled the covers away from the blonde’s lower half. A clawed hand pushed up the white robe until Aziraphale’s bare thigh was revealed. The angel was so startled he tried to shove the demon away but was stopped when he noticed the unmarred skin. The whip welts were gone, almost as if they never existed.

“What?” Aziraphale stared at his skin dumbly, running a hand over the place where the cuts used to be.

“You always could endure everything,” Crowley said with a low voice. He placed his hand on top of the angel’s, keeping it over the blonde’s healed flesh. “But I couldn’t. Not when it’s at your expense.” Aziraphale could feel his heart bursting within his chest, scared at the thought of Crowley possessing him. There was no other way to explain the way his soul lept at the demon’s voice. He jerked away again, his fear remaining ruler over his body.

“I’ve healed them,” Crowley said softly, watching as Aziraphale pulled his robes back down over his legs.

“Demons can’t heal!” Aziraphale blurted out, but then he thought about how foolish his outburst was. Crowley had clearly proved he could, both with his cut finger and now this. “Or, at least they shouldn’t be able to.”

“They’ve gotten to you,” the demon said, “They always get to you. They mess with your mind like it’s a game, making it harder for you to reach out for me. It’s fine to feel lost, it’s fine to feel upset, but don’t you dare say you want to go back to them. You belong with me Aziraphale, you’ve always belonged with me.”

\---_---

Gabriel rushed to the altar of the church, his face contorted into disgust. He had shown weakness to an actual demon, the absurdity of it all still stung his pride. Aziraphale had always been an obedient servant, but his self-sacrificing act annoyed the master to no end. It proved that Gabriel needed his help, the help of a lowly angel who seemed to have more power over the creature than he ever could. He couldn’t handle how easily his pawn had freely fallen from his game, right into the hands of the enemy. Aziraphale was the only piece the demon seemed remotely interested in, and he didn’t have him under his power anymore. At least not now. He bent down, bowing before the podium, wishing to be granted more of something.

Holy water, consecrated ground, and prayer weren’t enough to sway the foul fiend, which meant that the blonde had been worth _something_. That something was no longer in his hands. He took his crown and tossed it harshly into a nearby pew. His blood boiled, surely this was what the bible called righteous anger? Aziraphale had to have known, and yet the devious angel had kept himself a secret.

Gabriel couldn’t feel God, couldn’t feel any more help reaching him and it made everything worse. Was he not worthy of more power than Aziraphale? He waited, he ignored any offerings of food or sleep. He needed more, more control, more power, more something. It took over his whole mind, like a virus that spread fiery hate to every inch of his body. Something about that demon, in particular, stirred a poisonous concoction of anger within him. He would see them both again. He’d separate them and prove to them both that he was not to be messed with. When it seemed that God didn’t want to help him, he stood to his feet and turned away. Perhaps the other side would be more accommodating.

-_--_--

Aziraphale had calmed down enough to stop his tears. His body no longer shook, and the fear of Crowley possessing him moved to the back of his mind. They had been sitting in each other’s company for what seemed like hours. For every comment the demon made about himself, Aziraphale responded with a bible teaching that went directly against it. They danced like this in an argument of what was right and wrong. Aziraphale discovered that the whole idea of righteousness that had once been black and white faded to a dull grey. Life wasn’t as simple as he thought and yet Crowley was trying to explain that it was.

“Well then,” Crowley said as he tilted Aziraphale’s chin upwards. Their eyes met, stripping away all thoughts of dishonesty. “Tell me, tell me what your church taught you about the fall of man and the first sin. Tell me where it began.”

“Adam and Eve ate the apple, and we’ve been paying for it ever since,” he summarized. It was an easy enough question, something children could answer. Crowley’s eyes flashed an emotion too quick for Aziraphale to catch, too complicated to read. The demon brought his face even closer to the blonde’s, shaking his head like Aziraphale had failed a simple Sunday school test.

“No, love,” Crowley said with such certainty, the blonde almost believed him. Aziraphale shook his head, backing away from the demon until he was against the headboard of the bed. “The serpent fell in love with someone he wasn’t allowed to have.”

“The serpent? You mean?”

“Don’t say Satan,” Crowley warned him, he continued his narrative. “Though, Lucifer saw what the serpent desired most and promised it over to him, just like the apple was handed to Eve. The snake was merely a snake. Created like any other creature God made in the garden, although not nearly as loved as the others. He slid in the dirt on his belly, like a glorified worm. He was meant to lay with the other snake, just as God intended for all her creations. But he didn’t.”

Aziraphale sat and listened to Crowley spin his tale. He wasn’t convinced that either side had the full truth. After all, if the church lied to him, then it lied to everyone. The facts that overlapped were that there was an Adam and an Eve, that a serpent existed and that Satan was bad. All other facts seemed to shift into sides of what Aziraphale fought to believe. The voice of Gabriel was strong in his head, he could hear his teachings going off like a record player on repeat. Crowley, on the other hand, spun his tale with such passion it was hard not to trust him. Aziraphale wanted to trust him, but what did that say about himself if he wanted to trust a demon over man?

As much as he tried to retain the information, Aziraphale's eyelids became heavy. The convenience of already being in a bed helped lull him into a dreamy state, dragging him down under until his eyes closed. Crowley let him drift, almost thankful that the angel felt comfortable to lay down his head.

" _You’ve captured my heart with one glance, and I am yours, and I cannot remember ever being anything else. My beautiful one, please come near me, be by my side. I do not care if it is blasphemy to desire you in the way that I do. This serpent is at your feet, my angel, my love, I don’t want to be alone anymore. My every breath is yours. I ache for you and it is like fire in my icy bones. Come to me, come, I will wait all of my days to see you if only once more.”_

Aziraphale dreamt of darkness, but the voice of a lover so distant and dear whispered to him, and he felt loved.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I've been busy writing as you can see! I hope you enjoy this chapter, I had a ton of fun writing it! 
> 
> Check out my other fics if you're bored! I love you all!

_-Genisis-_

Eve let out a high-pitched wail when she saw Crawly for the first time. He had been laying by the streams, curled up in the tall grass. It was how everything seemed to react to his long and scaley body. Adam hurried his way over with an angry expression and a large rock in hand. The snake retreated under the thick brush, hissing in annoyance at not being able to enjoy the sun openly like everything else. This was unjust, blatantly so. Life in the garden irritated Crawly, everything made his heart more and more bitter. He’d been made just like everything else, crafted by **Her** hands and given this form. He hadn’t asked to be made. She had made him this way, made him repel everything that saw him, and when he asked why he was ignored.

**“But who are you, to talk back to God? Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, Why have you made me like this?”** **Her** voice had said in his mind. It was the only thing **She** had said to him since life filled his belly. And Crawly could hear **Her** voice even now, listening to the words repeatedly like they were printed inside his skull. He was cursed. The word came to him like a whisper, **cursed** , it said, and he believed it so adamantly.

At night when most of the garden slept, Crawly slithered out into the open, stretching his body out along the rocks. Night felt good to him, it treated him far better than the day had anyway, and the humans were asleep.

“Poor little creature,” A deep and dark voice spoke. Crawly turned around, hissing at the sound. Nothing had ever tried to talk with him before and it frightened him. “ **She** must loathe you, just as **She** despises me.”

A man, or something disguised as one, crept out of the shadows. His hair was long and black and it flowed like a cape behind his broad shoulders. He was dressed in darkness and each step forward created a trail of burnt earth behind him. Crawly bared his fangs, sensing the way this man’s presence upset the feel of the garden.

“You’re different from the others in Eden,” the being said. “If you work for me, I could give you anything you could ever want. A new vessel, perhaps? I could craft a body worthy of you. All I’ll ask in return is one thing.”

A lightning bolt came down from the heavens and struck the earth in between Crawly and the dark entity.

“ **You are not permitted in my garden, Lucifer** ,” God’s voice filled the air. Everything seemed to vibrate with the power behind **Her** words. The demon hissed in displeasure, but he looked to the serpent one last time.

“Think it over, Crawly.”

And he vanished.

Crawly slithered away from the cracked ground, the smell of burnt grass too strong for his liking. He had no idea who Lucifer was, but he had been honest about God being upset with him. While the promises of another body certainly tempted him, Crawly was in no hurry to do favors for others. He had nothing he desired enough in his heart. Life was dull, meaningless and he would laze his days away because that was all he was good for.

The morning after God had spotted Lucifer in **Her** garden, **She** sent an angel down to keep watch over it. The principality’s name was Aziraphale and **She** had crafted him out of clouds and sunlight, forming him to do the work of the ineffable plan. The angel carried with him a flaming sword and an anxious smile as he paced along the walls.

Crawly watched him, he had nothing better to do, and the angel seemed to glow like he carried Heaven within him. The nervous pacing only lasted so long, the blonde extended his glorious wings and flew down to the floor of Eden to walk amongst God’s creations. Crawly slithered after the angel, feeling his scales shiver with some unknown emotion.

Adam and Eve didn’t seem too interested in the principality, none of the other animals did either, but Crawly felt compelled to stare. He watched every move the angel made, unable to look away, almost like he had been possessed by some obsessive sickness. His cold blood warmed at the sight of the blonde, giving him peace in a world of contempt. Days went on like this, days of the snake trailing after the angel, feeling like life mattered for the first time. The angel loved to eat, loved to nibble on all of the fruits of the garden, licking his fingers after each piece. When he sat in the sun his golden hair appeared like a halo of curls atop his head. Crawly stayed in the shadows, trying to keep satisfied with just observing.

“I know you’ve been watching me,” the angel said, “Come on out and join me.”

Crawly moved to answer the angel’s call. Unable to deny anything that left the blonde’s grape stained lips. He slithered his way out of the darkness and curled his long body around where the angel was. He waited for the scream, for the disgusted remarks about what he was, but none came.

“Your scales look radiant in the sun,” was all he said. Crawly felt what he could only believe was the warmth of Heaven wash over him for the first time. He curled his body around the angel, urging those holy hands to reach out and touch him.

“Aziraphale!” Adam’s deep voice yelled from behind. Crawly hissed like the wicked snake they believed him to be, keeping his hold on the angel. The man looked like he was ready to strike, face contorted in fury and hatred.

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, and he placed the palm of his hand on the serpent’s belly, causing Crawly to relax in defeat. It had been the first time he’d been touched, and oh how blessed he was that it was the angel who touched him. “He’s alright, he’s a creature of God, just as you are. And I’m the keeper of this garden, I don’t need your protection.”

Adam relaxed a little but still kept his face hardened. He left the angel alone, his brown eyes glancing at the sword that lay beside the principality. Crawly wanted to freeze time, he wanted to live in a garden where only the two of them existed. He tightened the coils of his body, wrapping himself around the angel until his head was by his ear.

“Assssiraphale,” Crawly spoke in the angel’s ear. He could speak just like man, but there had never been anyone he wanted to talk to before. Until now.

“Yes,” the angel replied. He brought another grape to his lips like he wasn’t tangled up by a deadly snake.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”

“No.”

Crawly brought his snake tongue out to flicker against the angel’s chin, licking up the juices left behind. They stayed together like that, a tangled mess of scales and feathers sitting under the sun. Every minute after was spent in a similar way. Crawly refused to leave Aziraphale’s side, he would slither behind him on his patrol of the garden, would wrap around him when he laid in the grass. He refused to part with this angel, refused to leave this Heaven he was given.

Aziraphale made him appreciate God, made Crawly believe he hadn’t been cursed. How could he have been when the angel looked at him and smiled? Nothing else mattered, nothing else could compare to being by Aziraphale’s side. They were inseparable until Heaven called Aziraphale back to report his work.

Night fell and Crawly waited under the moonlight for his angel to return to him. The garden wasn’t half as beautiful without Aziraphale in it, and though life moved about all around, it felt empty.

“Have you thought about my offer, Crawly?” Lucifer’s voice whispered from behind. Crawly jerked his head violently around, and there stood the beautiful and dark traitor of Heaven. “Will you carry out a task for me?”

“No,” Crawly hissed. “You have nothing I could want.”

His head was full of Aziraphale, and that was more than enough. Life in the garden was beautiful and worth living because God had placed his angel here. He wasn’t cursed, he wasn’t unlovable.

“Oh, but you are cursed,” Lucifer grinned. Crawly understood then that the demon could read his thoughts, but there was nothing he wanted to hide. “Can’t you see it serpent? You’re as cursed as I am. That angel you care for, doesn’t it hurt that you can’t hold him. God hasn’t blessed you with Aziraphale, she’s torturing you with him, can’t you feel it?”

Crawly remained silent. Something about the demon’s words were true, and that truth overshadowed any little lies that might have been mixed in. Lucifer saw the flicker of thought in Crawly’s snake eyes so he pressed on.

“Shouldn’t you have been made into an angel instead of a snake? Then you could be alongside the one you care about. He would look upon you as you look upon him. You could be like Adam and Eve, isn’t that what you want? God put that angel here to remind you of how lowly you are. Gave you that vessel that could never hold onto anything. You slink across the dirt and Aziraphale can fly. You’re not the same. But I, I could give you a beautiful form, you could become an angel too. All I need is one favor.”

Lucifer’s words made more sense than Aziraphale’s. His angel was too naïve to think God was capable of creating something dark and unloved, yet Lucifer and himself were here as proof. The demon had crafted a poison of doubt in him, doubt in God’s plan, and he drank it in, letting it twist his thoughts around. Oh, he’d been foolish hadn’t he? His desire for Aziraphale was stronger than anything else. It took over all thought, drowning out everything until it was all he could picture. Could Lucifer give him a body like Adam’s? What would it feel like to have arms and wrap them around Aziraphale’s plump form? It seemed like too much of a good thing, too unreal to think about. Oh, he had tried, tried to stay satisfied just being next to the angel, but he always wanted more, craved more, needed more. There was nothing he could offer the principality, he was nothing but a glorified worm. And God must have known too, maybe they laughed at him in Heaven. His desire for the angel was more than he could bear.

Lucifer was running out of time, but he could feel the fire and curiosity burn within the serpent. He had singled him out for that very reason, Crawly was the only thing in the garden capable of doing evil with minimal temptation. Man was next on the agenda, but God always paid more attention to them than anything else.

“Doesn’t Aziraphale deserve someone with an actual body?” Lucifer asked. The way he said his angel’s name caused a rage to burn within Crawly. Yet, that had been the final push needed to get the serpent to cooperate.

“What’s the favor?”

Lucifer grinned wickedly and he touched the serpent on the head, feeding him instructions through demonic thought.

_-_-_-_

Morning had come and Aziraphale was still away in Heaven. Crawly had all night to think about his plan, to say goodbye to the wretched body God had given him. He slithered his way near the tree of good and evil, curling around it like a ribbon on a gift. Eve had been nearby, but because of Aziraphale’s reassurance, the humans weren’t afraid of him anymore.

“Eve,” Crawly called, and the woman came to him, her eyes already on the beautiful fruit. “You should try one of these apples, the finest in the whole garden.”

“I mustn’t God has said we can’t eat them.”

“Oh, but tasting is different isn’t it?” Crawly hissed, “Some things are meant to be tasted.”

She reached for an apple and looked at it questioningly. He could see that she’d been doubting a lot too, most of creation had, and it made him feel righteous for tempting her. With one bite, her pupils dilated and her innocent expression changed. She took the apple and ran, seeking out her mate to share her newfound knowledge. Crawly had done what he had been asked.

His snake tongue felt the air, smelling the change the fall of man had brought. Crawly made his way down the tree, waiting for his body to be made new, waiting for Lucifer to appear.

All at once Crawly’s vision left until he could only see darkness so black that he felt it. A fire intense and excruciating burned up his body, cutting him open over and over, until his scales melted off in the flames. His bones cracked and danced around, contorting like they were being pulled apart by harsh hands. He couldn’t see, he could only hear the sound of his hissing, and then the sound of his screams.

It dawned on him that the voice was his, that it belonged to him, and terror upon terror filled his core. Flames engulfed every inch of his growing form, propelling him downwards like a shooting star. He crashed into the earth, his new skin scraped against the rocks and the dirt. Crawly laid there like a broken doll. Few flames remained on his naked body and blood spilled from different cuts in his flesh. He opened his eyes and the world was blurred.

He lifted his hands up to his face and let them feel his new features. His entire being shook uncontrollably and he wasn’t able to stop. He gasped for life, his bones snapping into place adding more weight than he thought he could carry. The flames started to dissipate and strength returned to him little by little. Crawly pulled himself up out of the crater that had formed from his fall. His arms and legs felt so foreign to him, so Crawly crawled on all fours dragging thick black wings behind him. Some of his feathers were still on fire, but they weren’t burning away. He moved to the river that flowed nearby and tossed himself in. Smoke bubbled up from the flames dying out in the water. He didn’t know how to swim in this form, but he managed to grip onto the side of the bank, long black claws dug into the earth for leverage. His new muscles ached with each movement, but he had to keep going.

Crawly pulled himself up just to lay back down onto the grass. His head had only two thoughts. One, that he needed to see Aziraphale and two, ** _he didn’t feel like an angel_**.

_-_-_

Aziraphale flew back down to Eden with a new task from Heaven. Crawly could feel his presence again, tears poured out from his golden eyes in anticipation. He tried to move his body, but he felt so weak. Ignoring the way his flesh burned and bled, Crawly managed to stand on two feet, hopping his way over to Aziraphale.

The angel was holding a flaming sword, looking around the garden that had started to rot away. Their eyes met and Aziraphale started to cry. Crawly winced as he made his way over to him, his legs looking and feeling awkward and unbalanced from lack of practice. He bit his lips to stifle the groans that tried to come out with each step. Aziraphale’s blue eyes were wide and full of tears and his sword lifted in front of him.

“Y-you’ve become a demon, Crawly,” he said. “How did you—why did you?”

Aziraphale seemed to be having a hard time finding words. Crawly could feel his fear and sorrow, he could feel things he could never sense before. So he’d become a demon then, not an angel. Lucifer had tricked him, after all, but still, Crawly had a better body now.

“I wanted to hold you,” Crawly admitted, opening out his arms to show he had them now. “Please let me hold you. I’m about to fall over.”

Aziraphale rushed to his side, allowing himself to be wrapped up in the demon’s arms. Crawly’s blood and dirt were staining the angel’s white robes, but he couldn't care about it at the moment. He had his angel in his arms. He tightened his grip on Aziraphale, held him so close that he could feel their bodies pressed against each other.

“I was sent to kill the demon in the garden,” Aziraphale sobbed into Crawly’s fiery hair.

“Kill me then,” Crawly said, “If that’s what you want, you can. I’ll let you.”

“How could you think I’d want to, you stupid serpent?”

Crawly felt his body collapse, but the angel kept him steady. All of the demon’s weight pressed onto Aziraphale. The angel tossed his sword to the side, wrapping his arms around Crawly’s naked waist to help him lay down. The blonde knelt beside him with a broken expression. Aziraphale ran his hands over Crawly’s new body, tears still falling from his eyes.

“Am I not pleasing to look at?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Aziraphale whispered, “You always were.”

_-_-_

Eden had burned to the ground, leaving only the large walls behind. They were blackened by the flames, standing like lonely giants guarding a stolen treasure. Crawly stood in the desert nearby, his serpentine eyes looked over the ghost of the home he once knew. Aziraphale had been called to Heaven, and there was nothing he could do about it. Crawly barely had control over his new body.

Lucifer appeared beside him, and they stood in silence, two demonic entities side by side. Both of their wings were as black as night.

“Excellent work, Crawly.”

In a split second, Crawly’s claws were around Lucifer’s throat. He stared at his new maker’s black eyes, seeing his own reflection for the first time.

“You were supposed to make me an angel,” he hissed out. The hold tightened but Lucifer only smirked at him.

“Yes, I did, a _fallen_ angel. Did you really think someone like you could enter Heaven?” Lucifer laughed, “We’re alike you and I.”

Crawly let his throat go, but his fury remained.

“You are under my control now, Crawly, you will do as I say. Your angel works for God, you are enemies, you will be separated until the end.”

It was too much. He had been betrayed by the fantasy of being able to keep Aziraphale. Crawly made a move to strike the demon, but Lucifer had vanished.

**-present-day-**

Aziraphale woke to a terrible headache and an empty room. He had fallen asleep again, dreaming of nothing. A strong sense of déjà vu hit him, but he felt too exhausted to care. He slipped out from under the black sheets and set his feet to the floor. Though Crowley’s home was apparently in Hell, the floor felt cold and smooth like a stone. He stood up, feeling weak at the knees, but Aziraphale grabbed the pole of the bed.

He straightened himself up and moved again, hoping to run into the demon to ask if he could get something to eat. His stomach roared like a hungry beast, and he wanted the lightheadedness gone. He pushed against the wall and found it could rotate the whole way around like an odd door. Aziraphale saw more vibrant plants along with statues of angels and other things with wings.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called, continuing on his walk through the home. He came across a large table and throne with a bowl of fruit sitting on it. The blonde hurried over to pick one up. It felt like a regular apple, it looked like one too, but Aziraphale was warry of eating anything in Hell. His stomach growled again, demanding he throw caution to the wind.

“Go on, you can eat it,” Crowley’s voice filled the room. The demon waltzed in, coming close until he was directly behind Aziraphale.

“Will I have to stay down here like Persephone?” Aziraphale asked with more bitterness in his voice than he actually felt. He had learned about mythology alongside other lies of how the earth came to work and be.

“You’ll stay down here because of my love for you,” Crowley said, not missing a beat. “And I can assure you, it’s a lot more than damning than any piece of fruit could manage.”

**Ah, love** , the demon said, but Aziraphale didn't bring it up. Perhaps it was just a phrase written somewhere in history. 

Aziraphale gave him an annoyed look but took a bite anyway. The juice burst in his mouth, just like any regular apple. He ate away at it, licking his lips with the liquid poured out. Crowley moved to his throne, falling into it like some prideful king. The blonde continued to eat. The apple started to settle weird in his stomach, already making him feel full. He was still shaken up by everything that happened. His mind wandered back to the church, but he pushed it away, not knowing if Crowley could read minds. 

“You know,” he said in between bites. “Isn’t the ruler of Hell going to be mad that you brought a living human here?” At least Aziraphale hoped he was still alive. He could hear his heartbeat and his body had been hungry moments ago, so he figured he must be.

“I’m the ruler of Hell.”

“But I thought Sata—”

“I killed him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys this chapter is super important! I have the last main character introduced and *In Gabriel Voice* I bet you didn't see this one coming.

Gabriel knew about demonic summoning. As a leader of a church strictly against such activities, one had to become familiar with the opposition's schemes and tricks. He had removed his holy garbs, dressed in a simple white robe, and kept his feet bare. He tried not to draw any attention as he made his way down underneath the church. Candle in hand, the soft glow wasn’t nearly enough light to give a person comfort, but Gabriel was afraid of much. At least he hadn’t been. Power was such a fickle thing, fragile as anything, and he felt it slipping through his fingers. Loss of control, loss of power terrified him.

The air was noticeably cooler the further he walked down the stone steps. It was like a premonition, warning those to turn around, but there was work to be done. Gabriel hadn’t been underground much, but he had followers placed down here to help further their repentance. It was a punishment that he rarely enforced anymore, but there had been disciples he placed here in the past. He recalled Aziraphale staying down in the dark for three days without a candle because he had fallen asleep during service. If only that was the trouble the blonde was up to these days. Yet that sinful angel had fooled them all. He had to have been working with the enemy all along. A low growl from Gabriel’s own throat echoed off the endless walls, frightening the church leader into silence.

At the bottom of the stairwell, the floor was dirt and dust. It looked and smelled similar to a catacomb, the perfect atmosphere for putting the fear of God into someone. But down here was not consecrated ground. This was surely one of the doors that led to hell, and not even Gabriel knew why the church had such a vast underground. He set the candle down, reaching in his robes for several more, lighting five in total and placed them in a circle. He traced foreign symbols in the dust, swirling the curls and crossing the lines until he had a perfect summoning piece. There was a long moment of hesitation before he pulled out a knife from his sleeve and cut the palm of his hands. His blood appeared black in the dim lighting, drops of thick liquid falling into the circle. It showed its true color as it seeped into the earth beside the candlelight. The symbols drank it almost as if they were alive, and the sight startled Gabriel. One by one the candles blew out, leaving him vulnerable and near hysteria. The darkness was so heavy he could feel it.

“What do we have here?” A voice like a croaking frog asked. Gabriel couldn’t see a thing, but he felt the words touch him, felt the condescending tone brush his skin. “I’ve been so hungry.”

“Wait,” Gabriel hated how unsure his voice sounded. “I’ve summoned you to grant me power.”

A loud laugh vibrated through the darkness, shaking Gabriel’s brain inside his skull.

“Humans think they can mess with occult forces, little do they know, they taste good to us.”

Anger boiled over any fear. This demon was taunting him, reminding him that Aziraphale was different, that the blonde was special, because that redheaded beast practically worshipped him. He remembered the name the ex-angel had spoken, and Gabriel decided to use it. Before he could open his mouth, he felt something wet and slimy slide down his arm, slow and thick like tree sap. 

“I need Crowley destroyed,” he said. Evil swirled around in his heart, an evil that the demon noticed. “And I’m going to show Aziraphale the cost of betraying the church.”

“Hm,” the voice replied, obviously amused by the human’s threat. A snap sounded and the candles lit once again, revealing a tall figure with beady black eyes, and a frog on its human head. It stood right in front of him, the green liquid rolling down his arm had been demonic drool. Gabriel tried not to look too appalled at the sight, biting his tongue from shouting prayers to exorcise the disgusting thing. All demons were abominations to Gabriel, even ones who had better human forms like Crowley. The demon picked at his teeth with a dirty finger, taking in their surroundings.

“So,” the demon finally spoke. “What’s your plan to destroy Crowley?”

_-_-_

Aziraphale had dropped the apple, letting it roll across the floor until it hit against the demon’s throne. The bite mark appeared so prominent, the white of the fruit was like a beacon against the dark colors around it.

“You what?” Aziraphale needed to make sure he heard him right. “Did-- did you say you killed Satan?”

Crowley straightened himself up in his chair, tapping his clawed hand against the arm of his throne. It made a clacking sound, pleasant to the ears but frightening in its own way.

“Oh come on, angel. Even you can’t say he didn’t have it coming.”

Aziraphale tried to remember Gabriel’s teachings, tried to remember what it said about the end times. Satan was mentioned, it was written. Satan brought about the end, but Crowley seemed so sure. Aziraphale couldn’t allow more doubt to cloud his mind, he didn’t think he could take it. Religion was all he had, was all he thought mattered, what made his life matter. And if he didn’t have the forgiveness of God, he was nothing. The demon had been so good at getting to him, cracking his faith like it was merely made of thin ice. And while he had been warned that demons would try and steer him away, this was different. The words Crowley spoke were violently pulled from the demon’s own soul. It was hard not to believe him.

Aziraphale started to feel a headache coming on, Crowley saw the flash of nausea and reached to pull him onto his lap. The blonde’s whole body went rigid like stone, unsure of how to feel about the hands stroking his back. Was Crowley perfectly sane? As a demon, he probably didn’t have to be. Aziraphale couldn’t believe that such a prominent character in his religion was taken out by those hands, not when they gave him warmth and comfort. Part of Aziraphale wanted to forget what he had heard, but the other part wanted to ask more questions. And he had been full of questions, but the answers given in return seemed so vague.

Aziraphale licked his dry lips, fighting the urge to lean back against Crowley. He was taught that God was going to be the one to destroy Satan, not another demon. They had to have been on the same side, but Crowley had such bitter feelings about it and pain and fury flashed in his eyes every time he brought it up. Something had to have happened. Something bad.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale turned to watch the other’s face. “Tell me everything. I want to know the full story.”

Strong hands wrapped themselves around the blonde’s waist, pulling him flush against Crowley’s chest. The demon rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his breath tickling the angel’s ear.

“You really don’t remember,” Crowley whispered it so brokenly it felt like a knife had pressed its way through both of their hearts. Aziraphale still wasn’t ready to believe everything that Crowley said, he was an actual demon after all, and it didn’t matter if a person was religious or not. Everyone knew not to trust demons. But if he wanted enough puzzle pieces to figure out the bigger picture, Aziraphale had to pretend Crowley wasn’t insane. He would have to go along with the idea that they met before, and maybe they had, but Aziraphale was sure he would have some memory of it. Maybe Crowley knew him in a past life, but the church didn’t believe in reincarnation, so he didn’t either. He brought a gentle hand to rest over where Crowley’s were placed.

“Help me remember,” he said. Crowley sucked in a weak breath by his ear, like his lungs had shattered under the weight of Aziraphale’s request.

“You’re different from my Aziraphale,” Crowley stated, but the angel knew it was hard for him to admit that. “You’re human and you look at me with fear. I waited for so long. In any form you take, I can’t help but love you. You’re a reincarnation of the Aziraphale I knew long ago.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a white feather appeared in his hand. He held it as if it were a precious jewel, holding it up for the blonde to touch.

“You were an angel,” he started off soft, his voice became breakable like a sad child. “And I was the first snake God had created. Everything hated me, but you, you gave me peace and light. I loved you so fiercely I—”

And then the silence was so heavy, Aziraphale felt as if his body couldn’t move, And then—he heard the demon weep behind him. Crowley moved to press his forehead against Aziraphale’s back, tightening his hold and sobbing onto the white fabric of his robes. He could feel the damp tears soaking their way through the cloth, and it made Aziraphale’s heart tear as if it were paper.

“Shhh,” Aziraphale began gently rubbing his hands along the demon’s arms. He never imagined he’d be comforting a demon, he wouldn't have believed someone if they said demons needed comfort.

“I made a deal with that fucking bastard, SSssatan, he told me he would make me an angel if I tempted Eve. He changed me into a demon instead, and then Heaven kept you away for a long time. We would meet in secret.” Aziraphale was trying to keep up with Crowley’s story, but the demon was letting his words out too fast. They fell in a pile in Aziraphale’s mind, all scrambled and broken. “I was slacking off in my work to see you whenever I could, you would run into my arms, and I would forget about the pain of how I got them. He was jealous I think, Satan, he was definitely angry. He wanted me to focus on Hell and Hell’s demands but my head and heart were always full of you.”

Aziraphale felt his heart slow for a few beats just to pick back up again. The things Crowley was saying, it made it sound like they had been lovers. Or at least with Aziraphale’s past self. And if he were really an angel how did he become a lowly human? It caused the blonde’s head to spin like a carousel. He was afraid if Crowley continued then it would change something deep within himself that he wasn’t ready for. Aziraphale’s ears started to pick up a ringing sound, and he tried to get off of the demon’s lap, but Crowley held him down.

“He killed you Aziraphale, Sssatan destroyed you, he-“ Crowley’s claws started to press harshly into the angel’s skin, nearly causing blood to spill. The blonde hissed at the feeling.

“I’m alive now,” Aziraphale replied, trying to say something, anything that would get the demon to calm down. The smell of fire and smoke started to fill his nose, and it caused his eyes to water at the intensity of it all. He could actually taste the burning fury Crowley was radiating, and it was enough to convince Aziraphale that he had actually killed God’s biggest enemy.

“He took you from me, he took you— and I—I couldn’t bear it! He thought it would help me become a better demon, and it did because I killed him. I murdered that bastard and I did it with a smile, but it didn’t make me feel whole. **_She_** spoke to me then, God did, **_She_** told me it was all part of the ineffable plan.”

 _Ineffable,_ Aziraphale heard the word repeated back in his mind. It was spoken in his own voice like he had used it long ago. _God’s ineffable plan_.

* * *

_“It must be God’s ineffable plan, Crowley,” Aziraphale moved to press a kiss against the demon’s cheek. Crowley’s wings spread out to trap the angel in a protective shield of dark. The wings of a demon were black and unholy, but Crowley’s feathers were always soft and comforting. Aziraphale hummed, reaching up to stroke along Crowley's wings._

_They were naked, skin on skin felt like electric currents of pleasant shock with each movement. Aziraphale had been sitting in the demon’s lap, his back against Crowley’s chest. Their bodies were still connected, from their recent lovemaking. Both of them sat on a blanket hidden underneath thick wood, but the stars still smiled down with light. The moon was full, representing the very thumbprint of God like the signature of an artist on a painting._

_“If I didn’t adore you, I’d punish you for using that word every time we meet,” Crowley teased. He started sucking at the skin on the angel’s neck, ready for another round with his mate._

_“I’m serious Crowley, everything happens for a reason, even if we can’t understand what that reason is. This love I have for you is ineffable dear, it’s the only word I have for it—Oh!”_

_Aziraphale was cut off by Crowley thrusting up into the blonde’s warm body._

_“Let's not talk about God right now, angel. I want to hear you praise my name.”_

* * *

Aziraphale was so startled by the vision, he jumped from Crowley’s hold. The demon’s claws had scratched the side of his arms, but the blonde couldn’t be bothered. Crowley’s eyes were still blown wide like a serpent’s. He reached out for Aziraphale, but the angel moved away.

“You’re telling the truth,” he said like he was out of breath. “You knew me.”

Crowley’s whole face shifted from upset to hopeful. In one graceful movement, he stood up from his throne and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand.

“Yes, yes,” He said, his tone was light and still fragile. “I knew you in every possible way.”

“But I’m not—I’m not the Aziraphale you’re in love with.” It was as if the blonde's words were exorcising the demon. His body flinched back like he'd been burned. Crowley's brows narrowed until his expression terrified Aziraphale.

"No," he said, his controlled voice was back to normal. "No, maybe not, but you can be."

__-_-__

“There’s something demonic about that church,” Shadwell said, while he watched through binoculars. “Witchcraft possibly!”

“You do know your wife is an actual witch right?” Newton replied with a tired look. The young man held his paper cup of tea with both hands, desperately trying to warm himself up.

“Aye, and she’s a harlot too, but she’s my harlot and she only has two nipples. She’s harmless.”

Newton shook his head, saving his breath. This argument never went anywhere. The two of them were waiting for a traveling salesman, who Shadwell heard had unique weapons. As a witchfinder army of two, they were in desperate need of any kind of weapon. Tadfield had been lacking in that department, but there was evil afoot and Shadwell was sure of it.

They stood by the closed post office, waiting in the cold night air for a sign that the businessman would make his appearance. Low and behold, after the church bell tolled at midnight, an all-black carriage made its way to them. It was pulled by four black horses, their hooves hit the ground in perfect step, and a man with a top hat held the reigns. In painted gold letters the carriage read,

**_A.J.Crow’s misc. wonders._ **

Which caused Shadwell to snort loudly to Newton.

“Bit of a flashy bastard eh laddie?”

“Gentlemen!” Mr. Crow himself brought the carriage to a halt and swung down in front of them like he was fearless and full of charismatic energy.

He wore dark glasses over his eyes, and his whole thin body was dressed just like the night. He removed his hat, revealing dark, red hair and bowed slightly with a cocky grin.

“I heard you were in the market for some battle gear.”

Before Shadwell could complain about the late hour, and how it’d been hard on his knees, church leader Gabriel walked out under the streetlight nearby. Newton sucked in a deep breath, holding it in, for fear of being noticed.

Gabriel didn’t notice them, though they were very hard to miss. Instead, the church leader continued to walk off in a haunting manner, eyes glazed over, feet stumbling a bit every few steps. He disappeared behind a row of closed shops, almost like a wandering ghost.

“Wasn’t that?”

“Aye.”

Anthony Crowley kept his gaze focused on the spot the churchman was last seen. A deep frown marred his face. Anthony knew that type of man well. His back still had the scars to prove it. 

“If he’s who you’re after," Mr. Crow said with a salesman like smile. "Count me in."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to bring you another chapter! This chapter hopefully clears a little confusion (i hope) I am planning to have 12 chapters total so we are over halfway there! Thank you for all the support and love! This story means a lot to me, and I'm happy it seems to mean a lot to others. 
> 
> Thank you!

Crowley’s eyes burned like hellfire. He was living off delusion, the blonde was sure of it, and though it was sad, Aziraphale started to feel afraid. Perhaps the loss of his actual lover had been too great a blow, because the flicker of pain in the demon’s eyes was close to insanity. The thick fog that had clouded the angel’s mind had begun to clear, he was slowly figuring this demon out.

“I’m not your Aziraphale,” The blonde said again. Something inside himself started to burst, unable to have another identity forced on him. The feelings swimming around in his body made him nauseated. The memories he had been dreaming, _seeing_ , and the emotions that pulled towards Crowley weren’t his own. There was a disconnect inside himself, like a wheel that fought to turn both ways. Maybe his faith in God had faltered, and that hadn’t been all Crowley’s fault. But what sort of life did the demon expect him to have in Hell? He had sacrificed his life for the church, but now that seemed meaningless. “I’m still alive! You lost your Aziraphale.”

Saying the name he had been called for long felt foreign on his tongue. The name felt like it didn’t belong to him anymore.

_‘ **Don’t provoke him.** ’ _The voice said, the same voice that mimicked his own and made him swoon over Crowley. It was the clearest the voice had been. What he had once thought was his own conscience now felt like another soul pulling at his brain.

The outburst made the demon snap. He lunged across the room like a weightless shadow and grabbed the blonde by his collar. He hissed, but it died down as he looked into wide blue eyes.

“You’re mine! You’ve always been mine! Can’t you feel it! I’ve waited all this time to see you again! I exist for you!”

“He’s gone,” the blonde reminded again, barely a whisper. Though he was arguing with a powerful demon, he knew that Crowley wouldn’t actually hurt him. “I’m not your Aziraphale.”

“I told you it matters little, you’re here, and here is where you will stay!” Serpent eyes narrowed at the hurtful reminder. His expression was hard to read, mixed between wanting to silence the blonde and wanting to kneel at his feet, begging forgiveness. He glanced down at Aziraphale’s neck, studying where the mark was with a distant stare. He dropped the grip on the angel’s robes and turned around to sit back on his throne.

Taking what facts he had, Aziraphale was certain he was a reincarnation of someone the demon loved. Or at least he resembled Crowley’s dead lover anyway. What really sent shivers down his spine was the name. The name Gabriel had given him, was the same name Crowley adored. It was too much to be a coincidence. Blue eyes glanced over at the King of Hell, who appeared powerful and broken all at once.

Something inside Aziraphale lunged forward in his chest, like a spirit was trying to pull him to Crowley. The blonde would not budge. He could only believe the romance of being rescued from an abusive church for so long. Despite the threats, Crowley couldn’t have been all bad. If what he confessed was true, he had fallen for an angel. This demon wasn’t some dark lover, waiting to take him to bed. This was a barley breathing soul, who had been waiting on the hope his angel’s reincarnation would love him back.

“I forgive you,” Aziraphale said, turning to make his way back to the bedroom. He could hear the demon jump up from his throne, but no steps followed. Crowley he could forgive, but not the church. Not when it felt they played a less innocent part of this whole scheme. A name like Aziraphale wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. It was a whole world to Crowley, and the blonde felt bad he had been using it.

He pushed the rotating door just enough for his body to slip back into the room. Candles forever burned all along the room, giving life to the stillness around them. The blonde walked over to a mirror placed near the right side of the wall. He approached his own reflection like a ghost of his former self. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was a ruffled mess.

The angel bit his lip when he felt his throat start to quiver, ready to burst out into tears. Aziraphale had always been calm and docile, but a growing desire to throw something at the glass kept building inside of him. He picked up a candleholder, ready to smash the mirror’s reflection, but then his eyes caught something interesting. The mark that Crowley had placed on his neck was fading fast, faster than a bite should have been. The white flesh around it was repelling the mark, leaving no trace of scars behind.

The blonde let the candle holder fall to the floor, bending to his knees, praying to whatever god existed. Praying just so the voice inside his mind would stop.

_-_-_

* * *

Anthony had driven the two odd witchfinders back to a secluded home at the edge of town. His carriage wasn’t meant to hold three people, so the redhead found himself squashed a little too close to a man who smelled like stale biscuits. Shadwell delivered the instructions like a warden, pointing his shaky finger in front of Anthony’s face to signal a turn. He took a lot of deep breaths, trying to remind himself that everything was for a good cause. The sight of that church leader made his gut twist with painful memories. Though he had never met that man, he had grown up in a different church with an abusive leader. He was whipped more than he had ever been held, and after Anthony had gotten away from that life, he vowed to help others find freedom.

Once they arrived at the cottage, a woman dressed in a blue robe waved at them from the doorway.

“Hello love, I just put on some tea? And—” she stopped to look at Anthony. Her eyes did a quick scan of his body as a smirk curved her red lips. “Where’d you find this one?”

“Anthony Crow,” he introduced himself, taking off his hat and bowing his head slightly. Before she could reply, Newt rushed up to her with a tired whine.

“Madame Tracy, do you have those round biscuits? The ones with icing?” When the woman nodded her head, he let out an excited yes and ran into the home. Shadwell started yelling various names at her as he wobbled past, earning a kiss in spite of his loud babbling.

Right, Anthony’s team was looking pretty weak. But he could work with what he had, he was good at that.

Once inside, it was obvious to Anthony, and anyone with eyes, what Madame Tracy’s profession was. The static of demonic power hung in the air, shocking each body as they stepped further inside.

“I was just chatting with the spirits,” Madame Tracy said, as she glided around him. Her jewelry alerted her presence when she made any type of movement. She placed a gentle hand on his back before sitting down in a chair. “They’ve been saying some interesting things.”

She hinted for him to sit down, gesturing at the seat across from her. Anthony took off his black jacket, body overheating from the roaring fireplace nearby. He rolled up the sleeves on his white buttoned shirt, glancing around the home, looking out for traps. Witches loved traps. Shadwell handed him a cup of tea without warning, almost causing the redhead to spill the boiling drink all over himself. Newt came rushing in, a packet of treats tucked under his arm and a few in his mouth. Crumbs were falling over his checkered sweater, but the boy didn’t seem to care. He offered one to Anthony but he firmly declined.

“So,” Anthony said, finally taking a seat. “What have the spirits been saying?”

“We had a demon summoning here not too long ago, I don’t know if you can feel it.”

The older woman smiled like a cat when Anthony nodded his head. Of course he could feel it, he could feel it like something clung to his own skin, he could feel it sticking to him like a well-fitted glove. “I never had a demon speak quite like this one. He was angry and powerful, but his power was limited. There was something off about him. I tried to summon him myself, just to set him straight! Pesky thing kept knocking my things off the walls. But it was like he wasn’t tangible. We had an angel from the church come to exorcise his spirit away, but something must have gone wrong.”

“An angel?” Crowley asked, most churches used different terminology for the roles under the leader. He wasn’t familiar with the term angel being used in a church, other than biblical reference.

“Like a priest I guess you could say,” Newt answered, mouth stuffed full. Anthony was impressed with himself for understanding anything that came the boy’s full face.

“The point is, I think the poor man is stuck in Hell. The spirits have been saying there’s a human down there.”

Anthony’s eyes widened at that. He set his full cup of tea down and leaned forward. He hadn’t heard of living people being sent to Hell before, but if that really happened, there was a way to bring him back. If the man was willing, and if he was still alive, Anthony could bring him back.

“Madame,” he said, a confident smile spread across his face. “Care to help me draw a circle?”

_-_-_

* * *

**_‘Can you hear me?’_ **

_Aziraphale had been busy walking through the hanging gardens of Babylon when he smelt hellfire. It wasn’t Crowley’s comforting scent, so the angel hurried on, not wanting to deal with the enemy. He had been sent down to Earth for a few blessings to accomplish and a miracle to show God’s mercy. The sky started to darken, and the clouds swirled around, promising a storm. The petals of flowers blew across the city, the pollen traveled through the air like perfume._

_It had been a good thirty years since Aziraphale had been down on Earth, a whole thirty years spent without his mate. Crowley always found him though, once his feet touched the earth, the demon always came rushing to wrap him within his strong arms._

_Aziraphale counted the days they were apart. Each moment longer made the world duller and grey without the demon’s warmth. He walked along a stone path that led away from the city, placing himself on a cliff that overlooked the sea. The angel took in the salty air, welcoming it into his body._

_“Angels love to sit and look pretty don’t they? That’s about all they’re good for.” A dark voice spoke from behind. It was a voice Aziraphale wasn’t familiar with, but a voice he knew belonged to a demon. He turned his head to the side, taking in the sight of who he could only assume was the fallen star of heaven, Lucifer himself._

_“I have no business with you, Satan,” the angel said, bringing his attention back to the water._

_“I have business with you, Aziraphale, angel of the eastern gate. You have my best demon wrapped around your lazy finger.” Ah, so he had guessed correctly._

**_‘Please, I won’t be able to reach you anymore, tell him to come home.’_ **

****

_Aziraphale felt the hatred that poured from every inch of the demon. While he was no weakling, the blonde knew the difference between an angel and an archangel. Lucifer had been the greatest archangel, God’s second in command, and now ruler over his own domain. He stood up dusting the dirt off his robes, trying to pretend he wasn’t afraid, demons loved fear. Fear to a demon was like blood to a shark. Aziraphale refused to give Lucifer the satisfaction of him backing down, not when he loathed the demon with every fiber of his being. This demon had hurt his serpent, Lucifer was the reason they were no longer in the garden._

_“Don’t act so high and mighty, angel,” Lucifer’s tongue held the l in angel longer than needed. The way he said it made Aziraphale’s skin crawl. Nothing like the way it rolled off Crowley’s lips. “You can spare a demon a few minutes of conversation, you’ve certainly spread your legs for one before. What’s the harm in talking?”_

**_‘I’ve been waiting for him for so long, but I can’t reach him!’_ **

****

_“I’ve already said, I have no business with you,” Aziraphale answered, moving back only to remember he was on a cliff. He wasn’t afraid of the height, he had wings, after all, but he still felt cornered. Waves crashed into the side of the cliff, the sound working to comfort him. Further on in the distance, at the side of the water's edge stood a familiar demon._

_“Aziraphale!”_

_The blonde turned around to see Crowley in the distance, his black wings spread out, ready to take flight. He smiled at the sight of him, then his smile became lifeless as something plunged its way into his chest. Lucifer had buried a dark sword inside him, black flames started to fizz inside Aziraphale’s veins. His blue eyes looked down at his injured body, and he knew this was fatal. Hell flames seeped into every atom of his being, his flesh started to crack like he was made out of glass._

_A scream pierced the air, far away, but so close to Aziraphale’s heart. A scream that was heard beyond Heaven and the deepest pits of Hell. It was Crowley’s broken cry. Lucifer let the angel fall to the earth, yanking his sword from the fading body._

**_‘In the garden, She’s made a place for him, for me, for us,’_ **

_And then there was nothing._

__-__

* * *

Aziraphale woke with his face covered in tears, and his whole body tingled like he had swallowed lighting. Something was pulling at his soul, forcing him upwards like a siren’s call. The room suddenly became too hot, almost unbearable to the point he thought he’d burn up. The blonde forced his eyes to stay closed, believing his death was coming, that somehow Crowley had tricked him with the apple. He was afraid of what he’d see if he opened them.

There were voices, muffled at first, but then they became more prominent. There was a woman’s voice, a voice he thought he knew somewhere in the back of his mind. They were calling for him, telling him to give in, telling him to allow it to happen. It must have been death. There was a bright light around him, a cool beam of light that felt artificial. He could see it lighten the darkness through his closed lids. Perhaps he was being sent to heaven? Aziraphale felt now was as good a time as any to go. He relaxed his body, happy to let everything be put to rest.

Suddenly his back was no longer lying on a soft bed, but rather on a hard and cold surface. Blue eyes blinked open to be met with Crowley, or someone who looked just like him. This redhead looked at him with soft brown eyes that appeared golden in the light. He opened his own eyes as wide as he could, finding more faces beaming down at him with shock. After a few blinks, the blonde jerked back, his hands slamming hard against the wood floor. He started to cough for air after realizing he had been holding his breath. Feeling too much like an experiment being worked on, Aziraphale sat up, looking around like a confused newborn. The Crowley look-alike reached for him, but he jumped away, afraid to be pulled back down to Hell.

“Easy, easy, angel,” The Crowley clone said, his voice was exactly the same. Madame Tracy rushed over to hand him a glass of water, her familiar face confusing him more, but putting him in a slight sense of ease. He was back on Earth.

“I can’t believe that worked!” A voice said from behind, but the blonde was too overwhelmed to turn and look.

“Aziraphale, are you alright dearie?” The older woman asked, she started to rub against his back for some comfort. The blonde started to shake his head.

“No, no,” he said, “not Aziraphale, it’s Ezra.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter so soon? Yes indeed! Thank you guys for all the love and support! Excited to see this fic to the end! Thanks for sticking with me on this journey! Hopefully, this chapter will answer a lot of questions!

The first time Anthony laid eyes on the man beneath him, he thought he had really summoned an angel. His blonde hair was tousled with the lightest shade of gold, his skin was pale and perfect, emphasizing his rosy blush, and _those eyes_. When they opened, Anthony felt his heart split in two, never to beat the same way again. The man started to look panicked, so the redhead moved away from the summoning circle, backing up to give him space.

“Easy, easy, angel,” he said once the blonde slammed his palms against the floor. The word angel easily spilled from his lips before Anthony had time to think much about it. 

He tried to reach out once to help, but the blonde definitely didn’t want his touch. He tried not to take it too personally, but it stung anyway. Madame Tracy hurried over, a glass of water in hand and concern in her voice.

“Aziraphale, are you alright, dearie?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“No, no,” he said, “not Aziraphale, it’s Ezra.”

“You’re changing your name?” Tracy asked, one of her brows were raised. Shadwell and Newt were surprisingly quiet, though Shadwell’s mouth was wide open like he was trying to catch flies. One look from his wife and the old man closed his gaping face.

“No, that’s not--,” the blonde said in a defeated whisper. He took the glass and chugged it until empty, looking back over at Anthony again, like he expected him to attack. “Aziraphale is the name Master Gabriel gave me when I joined the church. Ezra was my birth name. I’m not Aziraphale,” he said again looking straight at the redhead. “I’m **_not_** Aziraphale.”

Anthony nodded his head, unable to look away from the intense stare, but uncomfortable with the emotions swimming around in his chest. Ezra was too damn beautiful to ever be placed in Hell, or in an abusive cult for that matter.

“Ezra then,” Tracy said, no questions asked. She had been used to people leaving the church, starting over with new identities and purposes. She pat along his back, helping him walk over to sit in a chair. “Ezra is just as beautiful a name. Suits you. Now please tell us everything love, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to get off your chest.”

“Who is that?” Ezra asked, never taking his eyes off the tall dark stranger. Anthony cleared his throat, his voice cracked a little at his nervousness, but he bowed his head with a sincere smile.

“Mr. Anthony Crow, at your service,” he said. Ezra moved from his chair and made his way over to the redhead. The blonde grabbed his face and forced Anthony’s brown eyes to stare down at his gorgeous blue. Unsure of what was happening, and not entirely upset with the circumstances, Anthony let the man do as he pleased.

“Crowley?” he said like he was testing to see if Anthony would respond.

“No, jus—just Crow. Old family name,” he replied, licking his lips finding them very dry. God, if this man didn’t back up he was going to find himself kissed. Suddenly the warm hands removed themselves from Anthony’s face, and he studied him again, as if trying to prove redhead had been lying.

“He might have the devil in him still!” Shadwell’s booming voice filled the room, and Antony caught the flash of fear in Ezra’s blue eyes. Madame Tracy gave her husband an angry look and Newt continued to nibble nervously on his biscuits. Anthony understood the fear of demonic possession, he knew that look the man tried to shake off. He knew because he used to fear the same thing.

“Angels can’t be possessed by demons,” he said smoothly, “they can only be envied by them.” He meant it as a compliment, rather than a belief, but it didn’t seem to comfort the blonde in front of him. Ezra turned to make a contemplative face, before moving to sit next to Madame Tracy. Shadwell and Newt scurried over, but Tracy shooed them away, giving the man his much-needed space.

“I don’t know how much time I have, he’ll come back for me, I know he will,” Ezra said, as calmly as one could. His blue eyes trailed over the crystal ball that sat in the center of the table. He started at the empty glass like he was desperately searching for answers. “This demon, he— do you believe in reincarnation Madame Tracy?”

“Of course I do dear, but only for those with unfinished business. Of course, there are some myths about gods dying and being reborn as humans. Who is this _he_ though?” She replied, excited to hear where the conversation was heading.

“What about angels and demons?”

Anthony felt awkward standing in the same spot for what seemed like forever. He forced his long limbs to move forward, finding himself a seat across from the tired blonde. As soon as he sat down, Ezra stared at him again, trying to find something amiss about his eyes.

“The demon that brought me to Hell believes I’m the reincarnation of his dead lover. His dead lover who was named Aziraphale. The same name given to me by the church master. And I—I’ve been seeing visions, like memories that aren’t mine but, they line up with what the demon told me.”

“Fascinating,” Madame Tracy murmured. Her eyes looked off into the distance, trying to organize what Ezra had just told her. Shadwell let out a groan as if it was way past his bedtime to be listening to such nonsense. For a witchfinder, he was a terrible one, but Anthony supposed that’s why he’d been married to an actual witch. Newt seemed like the type of man who got lost and decided to join the club for a side hobby. Tracy was the only one who seemed to have any sense, and even then, she wasn’t totally sane if her crazed look had anything to say about that.

“He thinks you are his lover does he?” She wasn’t really asking, just speaking to lay out all the facts. It was definitely an odd thought to think that demons could love and have lovers.

“Well he—it,” Anthony decided to barge in, unable to stop his mouth from speaking. “The demon, he didn’t touch you, did he? I mean, he didn’t--” the stare that Ezra gave him was enough for his question to die down on its own. Anthony wasn’t sure why he even asked, but something about the thought irked him. If the demon thought Ezra was his lover then surely he would have tried some form of intimacy. The unnatural attachment he was forming for the blonde was alarming, the bit of possessiveness was something Anthony wasn’t used to. Ezra turned his head back to Madame Tracy, completely ignoring his question. Anthony thought that was fair, but it still hurt a little.

“He said he killed Satan because Satan killed Aziraphale. I saw it happen in a dream right before you brought me back to Earth. I- I think the actual Aziraphale is trying to speak to me, and has been manipulating my emotions because there have been times when I wanted to be with the demon.”

“Shall we try speaking with this spirit then?” Madame Tracy smiled.

_-_-_

* * *

Gabriel made his way to a small graveyard outside of the village. This graveyard was owned privately, nearly forgotten or used, and was much smaller than the cemetery owned by the church. It was more secluded too, located near the woods, away from the homes and shops of Tadfield. Lord only knew when the last body had been buried here, all the tombstones were weathered and crooked from time.

It was an ominous night, even Gabriel could feel it, but he continued his way through the dead grass and fog until the frog in his pocket told him to stop. He was never one for obeying orders, but Gabriel decided he’d crush the frog demon after he squeezed the use out of him. There was one large headstone in the shape of an angel with a broken wing, which a man crept out from behind. Gabriel narrowed his eyes unimpressed by the secretive forces at work. Demons lurking in a graveyard seemed unoriginal to him.

“What’s this then?” The demon’s voice was rough like a growl. He had a lizard sitting on his head, and Gabriel couldn’t stop staring at it. The frog that rode along in the church master’s pocket jumped out, shifting back into his human-like form.

“Got us an entertaining human, says he wants Crowley destroyed.”

“Crowley’s barely living as it is.”

“Yeah, but Ligur, it could be fun.”

“I suppose’” the demon called Ligur said. He came closer to Gabriel and sniffed the air. “Only if we get to eat him later!”

“Of course!” Hastur grinned. Gabriel tried not to roll his eyes, but he didn’t try that hard. He’d allowed the disgusting creatures to think he was disposable, but the second their use was fulfilled he’d douse them in holy water.

“I’m not stepping one foot in Hell,” Gabriel made clear, “I need you to bring Crowley to me.”

“That’s too bad isn’t it!” Ligur spat back. Clearly not amused with being talked down to by a human. “Crowley can’t come on earth like the rest of us. He can only be summoned, which even then we aren’t sure how.”

“Well then summon him then!”

“Can’t do that either,” Hastur answered. “He was only able to step foot on Earth because of a very specific blood offering. He took a human back with him yeah, the only human whose blood has a connection to his own. You won’t be able to call on him without that blood. It must be special blood, we’re not even sure why. Countless humans have tried to summon him before. He is the king of Hell after all. He’s had millions of inquiries.”

“What makes Aziraphale’s blood so special,” Gabriel grit his teeth.

Hastur and Ligur both looked at each other, obviously familiar with the name. Something flashed across their faces, an understanding of a missing fact they hadn’t known until now.

“Now that makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it.” Ligur smiled just like a cat who caught a mouse. “Hadn’t understood how he was able to come up here until now.”

_-_-_

* * *

Ezra tried not to stare at the Crowley look-a-like, or rather, Anthony, but it was hard not to. He was just as beautiful as the demon back in Hell, but there wasn’t any recognition in those brown eyes. He tried not to think too much of what that meant then. If he himself was a reincarnation of the angel Aziraphale, then Anthony might be the reincarnation of Crowley. But he had thought the demon was still alive. He had to be after all. Hadn't he?

It would help if the redhead stopped staring at him as well. Madame Tracy finished lighting her candles and reached for Ezra’s hands. She was gentle yet firm, closing her eyes and doing things that Ezra would have been terrified to do before. She tried to summon the spirit of Aziraphale, but it was eerily quiet. Nothing happened, nothing was said. She called his name so many times it made Ezra feel uncomfortable, he kept looking over his shoulder to see if Crowley would appear.

“You hearing anything Ezra?” She asked, and he had to shake his head no. There was no voice speaking, just his own paranoia. Madame Tracy let his hands go after they had become sweaty and warm. “I’m not too surprised. I’ve never tried to contact an angel before.”

“Just demons,” Ezra said more bitterly than he intended, but Tracy still laughed regardless. He instantly felt bad for his tone, he knew it wasn't exactly her fault it all happened the way it had. 

“Well its always been easier to believe in demons than angels I guess.”

Anthony stepped back into the room, drawing both their attention to the tall man. He looked at Ezra immediately like he was unable to focus on anything else. He nervously put his hands in his pockets and leaned into himself a little. Making himself appear less threatening. 

"I- I would like to see the church you grew up in. I'd like for you to take me there, is that okay?" he asked. Ezra swallowed, not expecting such a question. In truth, he was terrified of facing Gabriel again, terrified of Crowley appearing in the shadows to drag him back to Hell. Yet he had his own questions to ask, questions he would force out of Gabriel no matter how intimidating the man was.

"I'll do it, but you have to promise not to leave me there."

Anthony looked startled, but then a warm smile spread across his face.

"You're safe with me, angel."

_-_-_

Crowley was losing his mind, or rather what little he had left. His home was torn apart, sheets pulled from the bed, drawers opened, glass smashed. There was no trace of Aziraphale anywhere. His angel had left him again, right under his watch. He felt the emptiness inside himself, eating away at the shell of his body like he was paper-thin.

He growled out, taking a lit candle and throwing it as hard as he could against the mirror in his bedroom. The flame died out with the impact, glass shattered all around like a violent firework. He felt himself losing his grip on his soul, his existence running out like pouring sand in a timer. Aziraphale, Aziraphale, he had waited all this time for the hope of seeing Aziraphale.

His angel had been reincarnated as a human, but Crowley had been expecting that.

Right after he had killed Satan, he wanted to follow his angel in death. Life without his mate would never be worth living, but then She had spoken to him. Her voice filled every inch of his body like he was hollow, Her presence letting the rays of Heaven shine upon him. He had blood on his hands and face, but he wasn’t afraid of Her any more. His biggest fear had already happened.

“ **Serpent of Eden** ,” She called him, and he growled at the sky angry and broken.

“How could you let him die!” he yelled, his bloody fist felt righteous against the light. “He was the best and most beautiful creation you’ve ever made! ”

He felt like his being was fading, like death was trying to embrace him. The loss of Aziraphale had shattered his soul. The other half of him disintegrated into nothing, his better half gone. It felt like breathing without having any lungs, like trying to scream without a mouth.

“ **You shall see him again** ,” She promised, **“I will reward you for taking out my adversary. It’s been planned this way, Crowley**.”

And that had been the moment he shut Her out. The phrase that ' _it had been planned_ ', that Aziraphale’s death had been preordained, was too much to hear. Aziraphale, his angel, who had always talked about God’s ineffable plan was destined to die by it. It was too cruel to listen to any more. He had shut Her out completely, keeping the single phrase that he would see Aziraphale again.

He had been teleported to Hell, forced to rule in place of the King he had killed. It was all against his will, everything after Aziraphale had been, but he could do nothing about it. His body grew weaker each century, he was forced to exist only in the room prepared for him in Hell; his prison. He wasn’t alive enough to walk upon the Earth’s surface anymore, and Hell didn’t trust him enough to let him wander anywhere but the cell they gave him. He existed with one thought and one alone, that he would be able to hold his angel again.

Angels and demons who died by hellfire or holy water were reborn. God believed in recycling certain creations, instead of tossing them completely. The immortal creatures became mortal, faced with the same opportunities to pick sides on their own. That meant that even Lucifer would be reborn at some point, but he wouldn’t be aware of his previous life. God would give him another chance to be saved.

Thousands of years had passed until a woman in Tadfield had tried her very best to call upon him. He couldn’t physically appear, but he could try to scare her to stop her meddling, tossing her things and shoving her husband. It wasn’t until he tasted familiar blood in his mouth that his whole body aligned again, pulling him to earth like traveling through a wire.

Aziraphale. His Aziraphale had called upon him! The words of God rang in his ears over and over _**‘You shall see him again,’**_ And Crowley had. But something was amiss. The smell of this reincarnation was different, his presence a shadow compared to his original lover, but he was desperate all the same. The human looked at him with terror and called him foul, proof that this wasn’t his angel, but Crowley had waited too long for anything else.

He thought it would work out, that his soul would find rest after bringing the human Aziraphale to Hell with him, but it hadn’t. The hole in his heart had been too massive for a reincarnation to fill, but Crowley refused to admit it. He could make it work, he told himself that over and over. Even if this human wasn’t his angel, his mate, he still looked like him, talked like him. He loved him, but despised him secretly for being different.

It didn’t matter now, nothing mattered! Aziraphale always left him! Angel or human, his Aziraphale always slipped through his fingers, unattainable and painful, like drinking stronger doses of poison with each breath.

He wouldn’t be able to see the human again, not unless he was summoned, and Crowley doubted he would be. He let out a scream, shrill and terrible, spreading his black wings out in fury. He was cursed alright. God had cursed him from the start.

_-_-_

* * *

_“ **You shall see him again,** ” She promised, “ **I will reward you for taking out my adversary. It’s been planned this way, Crowley.** ”_

_The demon shut Her out but God continued on, even though She knew he hadn’t been listening. Everything would work to Her ineffable plan. The demon’s work was not finished._

**_“I’ve seen the desires of your heart, and I have placed your angel in a restored Eden, A dream that no other spirit can enter. It’s yours serpent, Aziraphale will be waiting for you. He’ll be waiting in the garden, the Eden that’s made for just the two of you.”_ **

_But Crowley didn’t hear Her. He had gone away to Hell, stubborn and hurt, and though it was part of Her plan, it still hurt Her to see her creations suffer._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to update on Sunday, but I was a good author and finished earlier than planned. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope things start making more sense. The smut is a coming I promise, we just have to get this icky plot out of the way first. 
> 
> Thank all of you who have stayed with me and this fic. Every update feels like a harder goodbye. I can't wait to share the ending with you.

“It- it’d be faster if we left the carriage and rode horseback,” Anthony suggested. Ezra followed him out of Madame Tracy’s home, but he hadn’t said anything to the redhead. The poor man was still dressed in a torn robe, and dark circles painted the underneath of his eyes. Ezra looked exhausted. Anthony couldn’t imagine what the blonde must have gone through, what abuse he had endured, and what he had seen in Hell. He looked back at Ezra, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something foolish again.

“I can’t ride horseback, I never learned,” he said, looking over at the dark horses hesitantly. Anthony wasn’t surprised, cult leaders never taught its congregation anything that might help them get away. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Anthony interrupted, hating how quick Ezra was at blaming himself for the smallest things. “It’s not your fault. Besides, I don’t think you’d enjoy riding in a robe. Carriage it is.” He swung his lanky body up onto the seat and reached a hand down to help the blonde up. Ezra looked at him like he had a ton of tricks shoved up his sleeves, and while he certainly did, Anthony had nothing but the man’s best interest in mind. When their hands finally touched a pleasant buzz of electric shot through him, almost making him let go. Judging by the look in Ezra’s eyes, the blonde had felt it too.

They rode away from the house in the early hours of morning. The sun was just about to rise, creating a golden glow on everything in its path. Ezra looked breathtaking under the rays of the sun. Anthony strongly believed that this angel needed to be blissfully enjoying the warmth of day, rather than the coldness of some dark church. The silence between them, though awkward at first, grew into a comforting peace. The horses' hooves hitting the dirt and the rolling of the wagon wheels were the only sounds between them. This simple scene put a warm and fuzzy feeling inside Anthony’s body, so much so that he had to continue stealing glances at the man. Ezra turned his head suddenly and Anthony let out a weird noise after he was caught staring.

“You look just like the demon,” Ezra finally blurted out. His claim brought Anthony out of his happy daze, trying to repeat the words in his mind over and over. While he had certainly been called a devil before, it was another thing to hear from a person as genuine as Ezra. The warmth inside the redhead’s chest started to disperse at the thought of what that meant.

“Come again?”

“You do,” Ezra said, “You look exactly like him, it’s why I was so afraid of you when I was brought back.”

Anthony’s mind raced for an explanation. He believed Ezra, he had no reason not to. The look of fear in his blue eyes had been so evident and it made more sense with that fact out in the open. Frustration started to tighten his body, but then he replaced the negative thoughts with something else, a new way of looking at the situation.

“Well, I’m definitely not a demon,” he said, “and besides, I’m sure I dress better.”

Ezra chuckled at that, and the sound caused Anthony to smile at his own success. Ahead of them were apple trees that stretched over the top of the road, creating an overhang of leaves and branches. He slowed the carriage down before they went under. Anthony passed the reigns over to Ezra as they were riding close to the thick brush. Ezra made a few panicked noises, he wore a serious face as he held the reigns tightly in his hands. He tried to hand them back, not comfortable with any form of control. It was clear Ezra had been in control of little if anything his whole life. Anthony wanted to change that. As the apples hung above, his tall body stood up and yanked a few pieces off the tree. He nearly fell off the moving cart, trying to pluck the fruit from the stems, causing Ezra to take a sharp inhale of breath. Anthony fell backward in his seat letting out a deep belly laugh, finding the whole thing exhilarating. He rubbed the best apple he picked off his jacket and handed it over to Ezra.

“Infiltrating a church on an empty stomach is always a bad idea,” he winked. The man let out an annoyed sigh, but reached for the apple, passing the redhead back the reigns.

“You really are a demon,” Ezra teased, but his tone let him know he was only kidding. Anthony took a big bite out of an apple, flicking the reigns to speed the carriage up again. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Ezra studying the apple.

_-_

* * *

Ligur had gone back to Hell in search of the human Crowley had taken with him. Hastur remained near Gabriel, much to the man’s disappointment. The tiredness became evident in the church leader’s distant stare, eyes strained from having been out in the cemetery all night. Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the migraine that tried to come from the intense morning light.

“I need to be getting back to the church,” he said, moving to walk away from the graves. “Send word to me if you find anything. I can meet you underneath, where I first summoned you.”

Hastur looked at him with a sneer, disliking the way Gabriel was so quick to give out orders. The demon didn’t retort though, appreciating the distance that kept growing between them. Something about Gabriel terrified even Hastur.

The walk back to the church wasn’t too far, and it gave Gabriel more time to plot out his plan. The desire to make Aziraphale and the demon suffer was so intense he felt he couldn’t contain it all in his body. The rising sun had focused on him as he went, sweat rolled down his clothed back, adding to his already foul mood. It felt too much like a spotlight, and while he knew it was merely paranoia, Gabriel couldn’t wait to be underneath the shade of the church again.

By the time he stood under the gate archway, Sandalphon was found pacing by the main door. The sight of the bumbling fool irked him, but even someone like that had use.

“Where have you been, master?” he asked, though his tone proved he was afraid of his own question.

“Did not Jesus go away in private to speak to God? I am no different,” Gabriel replied, brushing past the round man as he stepped into the shadows of the church. Sandalphon followed him, his steps faster than the master’s because of his stubby legs.

“What is it, Sandalphon?” Gabriel tried not to growl at the man, but his lack of sleep was making it harder to wear his kind mask. His patience was severely lacking after his fraternizing night with demons.

“Aziraphale has come back.”

_-_

* * *

Anthony had pulled the carriage behind a line of trees on the right side of the church. Ezra swallowed a nervous laugh at the sight of the stone towers. It looked like a sleeping giant on the outside, beautiful and dark like the hymnals he had been trained to sing. In the intense beams of sunshine, the stained glass windows caught the light, and Ezra longed to stand underneath its warmth again. His blue eyes couldn’t pull their focus away from the haunting building. His childhood was trapped in there, the little boy who begged for more food, who studied scripture, who sang in the choir. He could see himself as a little desperate thing, willing to do what was asked of him for love in return. He could see himself kneeled at the foot of his bed, praying for his empty feelings to leave him so that he could fulfill the work of the Lord with a lighter heart.

His burning desire to confront his church leaders died inside him at the sight of its sad stone walls. He felt small and weak, just like the young boy who was first brought here all those years ago.

“Ezra?” Anthony said his name so softly, but Ezra had forgotten he was going by that now. “Ezra?” The redhead repeated, and a warm hand placed itself on the blonde’s shoulder.

“I—”

Anthony’s gentle touch shifted into a firm squeeze, and Ezra began to cry.

“I don’t think I can go back inside,” he said honestly, fear had flooded his whole body. Ezra felt that he was neck-deep in dark water, and if he stepped and further he’d drown. If he dared to enter God’s ground would she burn him like Crowley? He brought a hand up to his neck to feel the mark, but it had vanished like it had never existed at all. Relief came, but it was short-lived. There wasn’t any belief in him anymore, his head had jumbled everything up into a mess that would take years to sort through. But he knew Hell was real, he had been there, felt it. He pitied a demon, and despite being pulled to the pits of the underground by Crowley, he didn’t want the demon to be alone anymore. Ezra knew what loneliness felt like, how it was the worst poison in all of creation.

“You don’t have to,” Anthony reassured him, his brown eyes caught the golden rays of light, making him look almost angelic. “You definitely wouldn’t have to go alone. I’ll be with you, I won’t let them hurt you again.”

Ezra thought of the dream he’d been given, the dreams he was sure Aziraphale tried to show him. He saw the love and compassion Crowley had for the angel, and right now in the early morning, this stranger carried the same look for him.

“You know I’m not Aziraphale right?” Ezra felt the need to say it again. He didn’t need another person believing him to be what he wasn’t. “I’m not an angel or anything I—I’m”

“I don’t know who this Aziraphale is,” Anthony said, reaching for Ezra’s shaking hands. He took them in his own, warming the chilled skin until the nervousness calmed. “But I know you are Ezra, and that you’re here with me now. And you really are an angel, wanna know how I know?”

Ezra soaked in every kind word that was said, cherishing the heat that was given to him by Anthony’s rough hands. They felt different than Crowley’s hands, Anthony’s skin had cuts and calluses like a human would. He smiled while looking up into deep brown eyes that seemed to hold an ocean of empathy.

“How do you know?” Ezra humored him.

“I’m an expert at talking with humans, but with you, I—I’m at a loss for them,” he answered as he squeezed the blonde’s hands before letting go. “That, and I swear you have a halo of light that follows you around.”

Ezra really began to cry then, not understanding what to do with kindness directed towards himself.

_-_

* * *

_“Do you miss Eden angel?”_

_“Of course I do, it was my first home. The first place I met you.” Aziraphale said while stroking Crowley’s hair. The demon had his head laid in his mate’s lap, reveling in every touch his angel gifted him. He cherished every second they had together and loathed every second spent apart._

_“Do you blame me for not being able to return there?” Crowley asked even though he was terrified of the answer. He blamed himself, after all, it was he who pushed the fall of man into place. It was Crowley who Lucifer had used like a puppet on a string. Warm hands cupped his face, tilting his head up so that he looked into blue eyes. God, Crowley loved those eyes._

_“No, I don’t,” Aziraphale answered, and relief so intense washed over him that he thought his soul tried to leave his body. “I have you after all, and you were my favorite part of the garden.”_

_The angel bent forward until his soft lips pressed a kiss against Crowley’s forehead. Every time Aziraphale did that, the demon’s wings curled in delight, unable to contain his joy. He could hardly believe his luck that the one most precious to him in all of creation loved him in return._

_“I’m always dreaming we could go back, you know. Just you and me. We could spend the rest of eternity together and I could have you on every inch of the garden’s surface.”_

_“You can have me now,” Aziraphale replied with a coy smile. Crowley’s body shot up like a rocket, and he turned himself around until he was hovering above his angel. He kissed him, hard and desperate, letting his serpentine tongue explore the wonders of Aziraphale’s mouth. When the angel pulled back his lips were swollen and his face red, and Crowley thought he looked absolutely delicious._

_“I like your dream, you know,” he whispered against the demon’s neck. The words buzzed against his skin, vibrating through Crowley’s whole body. He growled, unable to keep his pleasure to himself. “Your dream of Eden. Can it be my dream too?”_

_“Angel, it’s only worth dreaming if you’re there with me.”_

Crowley had been walking on the ceiling of his home, pacing in a circle around his large chandelier. He had lost Aziraphale again, and he didn’t understand how. The only proof of the blonde ever being in Hell with him was the faint smell of his fear. Fear had been a constant emotion that rolled off the human in waves. His Aziraphale was hardly afraid of anything, especially not Crowley, but his human-angel had been terrified. He didn’t believe keeping the blonde in Hell was wrong, his morals hardly existed after years of solitude, and he had been a serpent first after all. The difference between right or wrong was grey to him. Heaven said he couldn’t be with Aziraphale while Hell told him he couldn’t love. Both were wrong, Crowley was made for the sole purpose of loving his angel.

A knock on his door brought him out of his mourning, but only for a moment. His steps were angry as he walked his way back down to the floor.

“Come in,” he allowed, unable to really deny requests at his door. Any demon was allowed to enter his home, his prison, with his permission, but he wasn’t allowed to leave. His dark palace in Hell was the complete opposite of Eden, and perhaps that was another reason it hurt so much.

“My king,” Ligur’s low voice said as he stepped into the room. There was no sincerity in his words, no ounce of actual respect. Demons in Hell didn’t respect Crowley, they mocked him, used him, envied him. As if there was anything to envy. He wasn’t happy about ruling, Crowley wasn’t happy about anything ever since half of him died.

“Say what you came to say and then leave,” he hissed, not in the mood for entertaining anyone.

“We sensed a human down here in your chambers, but—” Ligur stopped his sentence, obviously sensing that there was no human soul present any longer. “Perhaps not.”

Crowley hissed like the angry beast he was. Ligur had come to rattle his cage, but he was a venomous snake. He lunged for the demon, wrapping a hand around his throat in fury. His winged had splayed out, their darkness as deep as the night sky above.

“Since you came to mock my pain, you’ll kindly volunteer to do me a favor.”

Ligur nodded his head, ashamed of himself for underestimating the king. The life force in Crowley might have been weak, like a drowning bird fighting to live, but his anger was stronger than anything.

“Bring him back to me unharmed.”

_-_

* * *

Ezra could hardly believe the courage he felt by having one reassuring person at his side. Anthony had explained a little bit of his own past after Ezra started crying. Anthony had been an orphan too, left looking for a family and a place to lay his head. There was a group of people who believed in things similar to Christianity and it sounded wonderful to a lost child. They had promised him purpose and an eternity in Heaven, just like Ezra had been promised. Yet Anthony had been beaten and bruised daily, so that his cult leader could remove his homosexual thoughts. It made Ezra sick to hear and reminded him of his own feelings. But he knew better than to say it out loud, knew to hide his sexual preference from Gabriel. The blonde had told himself he’d never have a partner because there was no way for his religion to allow it.

Anthony’s past had been eerily familiar to his own, and that brought a sense of kinship between them. The redhead understood him in ways that he couldn’t understand himself. Ezra was grateful for Anthony, blessed that fate put them on the same path. Yet part of him imagined that some bond had formed between them long ago and if reincarnation was real, and Ezra now believed it was, then he and Anthony were meant to find each other.

Now, as Ezra stood at the front entrance, the nervousness came back, and the panic ate away his confidence. He was about to turn and run, but the doors opened and Michael stood before him with a concerned expression.

“Azira—”

“It’s Ezra,” he corrected her, wincing at the look she gave him for interrupting. She stared at Anthony and then back down at him.

“Come in, Gabriel is out, but I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you’ve come home.”

Ezra’s body moved by default, his instincts urging him to listen for fear of being placed in the darkness underneath the church. Anthony placed a firm hand on his shoulder, giving him a worried look, the atmosphere seemed to bother him too.

“If you need to go, we will go,” he said lowly by the blonde’s ear. Ezra gave a weak smile and nodded, hoping that he could get everything he wanted to say out. It was ridiculous to think Gabriel would listen, but he believed if he could tell the man no just once, it would heal the most broken part of his spirit.

_-_

* * *

“Ah, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said when his eyes locked onto the tired-looking angel. He could hardly believe his luck that the very person he needed had come straight to him. The blonde looked like he was about to argue something, but he swallowed his voice and looked down at the floor instead. It was then that Gabriel noticed there was another man with his disobedient disciple, a tall and familiar-looking man who glared at him. The stranger wore a dark suit and hat, but when he stepped closer in the sliver of light from the window, Gabriel stepped back.

“How—” Gabriel kept his shaking voice from saying anything further. Somehow the demon had been permitted to walk on holy ground, but this was the chance he’d been asking for. The church leader pulled a container from the pocket of his robes and tossed the holy water at the redhead with the flick of his hand.

Droplets splashed against the dark fabric of his clothes, but there was no scream of pain. The man merely stumbled back, but nothing happened after that.

“Gabriel!” the blonde yelled, “stop! This isn’t Crowley!”

His disciples never called him by his name, only master or father. Had the blonde removed himself from his grasp already? Was Aziraphale trying to trick him again? The lack of reaction from the holy water was alarming, but Gabriel wouldn’t let his guard down again. After everything, with the initial shock dying down, he couldn’t feel any demonic presence nearby. Gabriel cleared his throat, tossing the empty bottle to the floor. He straightened his posture about to speak, but the silence was interrupted.

“I’d like to see you try that again, you fucking coward.”

The expression of hatred burned the same in the man in front of him, just like Crowley. The same snarl of voice, the same cold eyes that wanted him gone. Gabriel wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Who are you?” He demanded to know.

“Someone you’ve pissed off!” the redhead answered. The man moved closer again, but Gabriel called for Sandalphon and Michael to come to his aide. The two stood in between them, preventing a fight from breaking out inside the church.

“You dishonor us by leaving with a demon, and then you return bringing this riff-raff with you? Have we not trained you in the fear of the Lord Aziraphale?” Gabriel saw the pain and fear that showed itself on the blonde’s face, and he ate it up as if it nourished him. He smiled when Aziraphale’s opened mouth created no words, proving that Gabriel still had control over his disobedient pupil.

“It’s Ezra,” he eventually said. His voice had been so weak, it was almost missed.

“What was that?”

“My name is Ezra!” He said louder, “And I want to know why you gave me the name Aziraphale!”

Gabriel was in disbelief at the outburst. It was like a whole other person had taken over, a person who thought they could stand up to their master.

“He asked you a question,” the redhead said, every word was punctuated with a certain kind of venom that reached deep into Gabriel’s bones. It chilled the church leader, and fear that had once been so foreign to him started to pour into his body, but he threw that feeling away.

“Don’t act so high and mighty,” Gabriel spat with disgust.

_-_

* * *

_“Don’t act so high and mighty, angel,” Lucifer had said._ Ezra’s whole body froze, his blood ran cold. Something deep and dark crept its way to the back of his mind where he hid away his biggest fear. If reincarnation was real, and Ezra was proof that it was, then Gabriel was something he wasn’t capable of facing.

He had spent his whole life terrified of the devil and all his minions, but if his visions were real, then he had spent his whole life beside him. Things started to connect in his mind, things that became revelations too chilling to dwell on. Gabriel gave him that name because he had heard it before, long ago, the same name that meant the world to Crowley. But Gabriel wouldn’t know why he knew that name, reincarnations were never aware of who they once were.

Crowley had killed Lucifer the same day Aziraphale had died, the day Crowley had lost himself to heartbreak. The demon’s soul had died that day too, his body refusing to perish out of the intensity of his hatred. And here, in the main hall of the church, under the colors of stained glass, and statues of marbled saints watching them, the three of them stood again. Anthony and Gabriel didn’t know, but Ezra did, he could feel it, feel the significance of it, like God had whispered in his ear. **_‘I’ve brought you here, now change your fate.’_**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter is pretty dark. Read at your own risk!
> 
> Next 3 chapters are going to be healing and soft I promise

Ligur met Hastur as he waited near the edge of the Tadfield church. He stood beside him, feeling the wariness that rolled off his demonic companions body. Both of their dark eyes watched the stone giant in the near distance, their faces hardened with the fear of uncertainty. For a short while they had believed they were playing a game with Gabriel, but it didn’t feel all that fun anymore.

“I went to see Crowley,” Ligur admitted. “It didn’t go well. The human is here and he wants him back.”

“Fuck him,” Hastur said with a nervous frown. The frog demon could still feel the intensity of evil within the church leader, and the thought brought a shiver up his spine. Demons could still feel fear, it’s what kept them from getting too close to each other, and what kept them alive for so long. While they lived off of human terror, experiencing it for themselves was a whole different thing entirely. They were proud, but not as proud as angels or humans, and perhaps that was one reason why Hell was so populated. Crowley had been a perfect example of suffering. Pain was a universal feeling, and feeling wasn’t reserved for only the good creations. One could argue that demons knew pain all too well. “And fuck all those people inside that church.”

Ligur nodded his head in complete agreement. Crowley’s threat still lingered on, the feel of his hatred enough to terrify even a creature that fed off it. He needed to let off some steam, needed to feel powerful and in control again. Demons never liked to be told what to do. Hastur and Ligur were no exception.

“What do you say we cause a town riot?” he asked. “Get the people angry at the church? I’m sure a lot of them already are.”

Hastur turned his head and gave a wicked smile. His beady eyes twinkled with delight at his friend’s thought.

“Since we can’t step foot onto consecrated ground, let’s force the people to come to us. I’m sure with some demonic intervention, even a building like that could fall.”

_-_

* * *

“Enough, Aziraphale,” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed in fury. He tried to step closer just so he could look down on the blonde, but the redhead stood in the way. The church leader grit his teeth, confused as to who this man was, why he looked so much like Crowley, and why he was even here.

“His name is Ezra,” the man said in frustration. Ezra hurried to his side, placing a hand on the redhead’s arm. Gabriel didn’t have time for this, and the sight of them together made him even angrier than before. He needed to get the angel alone, needed to get away from the wide eyes of the church members. While they were devoted to Gabriel and their belief in him, there would be confusion if he blatantly asked the blonde to summon a demon right in the center of the church.

“Right,” he said as calmly as a person trained in deceit could muster. “Right, Ezra. I would simply like a word with you. I’m sure you have questions, just as I have questions for you. Can’t we talk? Are you really going to deny me a simple conversation? Weren’t we companions who lived under the same roof? I loved you like a brother Ezra, surely you know that’s why I was strict with you. I wanted you to succeed.”

Ezra’s face paled and the doubt was so heavy it became visible. Ezra brought his hands up to fiddle with them in front of his chest. Gabriel knew no matter how defiant a follower might become, it was always harder for the ones brought up in the church to turn away completely. It was similar to a lion raised in a circus, if a lion cub was trained to forget it had claws and teeth, it became easier to control as it grew older. People were no different. The basic need of all humans was love, and Ezra was so desperate for it, his tired heart was willing to forgive Gabriel if only he asked. The redhead beside him didn’t seem as convinced. He resembled the demon and wasn’t easily intimidated, so Gabriel didn’t like him.

“Azira—Ezra, please, allow me one last conversation with you, just to talk things over. Your friend can stay out here in the main hall. We can walk to your old room, gather your things, and I can pray with you one last time. If you want to leave us, leave the family that took you under its wing, then at least ease our minds and let us send you off with a blessing.”

* * *

Ezra listened to the sweetness in Gabriel’s voice and felt his determination wavering. It wasn’t the same as Anthony’s kind words, his church leader’s voice was hollow and cold, yet it still had power over him. Power he wanted back. Prayer could be a nice thing, it could give a person so much hope, and Ezra knew from years in the church that Gabriel could pray beautifully. Ezra could use some hope. And the church master had called him brother, and it pulled at his heart because he was always desperate for family. But now he knew that Gabriel was the reincarnation of Satan, so being alone with him was terrifying, more so than before. The image of Aziraphale having the demon’s sword plunged into his chest had been so vivid. Perhaps the angel had shown him so that he could be prepared.

“No—I’m no—” Anthony started to answer for him.

“Okay,” he replied over the redhead. If Gabriel wanted to talk, they would talk, because maybe there was goodness in him still. If Crowley could love an angel, then it wasn’t impossible for Lucifer’s reincarnation to have some good in him. And Anthony and Crowley seemed so different from one another. While growing up under Gabriel had been terrifying and abusive, the memories weren’t all bad. The church master beat him, locked him in dark rooms, and starved him, but he also played instruments for Ezra and prayed over him. The blonde had felt his bones rattle when Gabriel became angry, but he remembered the pleasure of hearing him say ‘ _well done._ ’ Ezra realized that he had loved Gabriel like his family along with the church because they were all he had known. He wasn’t sure if he could survive without them, not when they had fostered such a strong sense of codependency in him. So if he was going to do this, he couldn’t hide behind others. He needed to stand up for himself. Anthony turned to him, his face instantly softened as his gaze went from Gabriel to the Ezra.

“This is something I need to do myself,” Ezra told him, giving him his best smile.

“I know you think you need to do this on your own, but you don’t,” Anthony argued back. “People were meant to rely on each other. Lean on me Ezra, let me help.”

Ezra would have jumped at the chance to have someone offer help before, but his trust had become such a fickle thing. God had let him down, and if the omnipotent being had failed him, then how much more could a mortal? He liked Anthony too much to find out if his pretty promises were true or not. The fear of relying on someone seemed even worse than standing up for himself. Gabriel let out an angry sigh, moving to place an arm around his shoulders. The touch was light, but the weight of what was happening felt heavy.

“We’re just going to talk,” Gabriel said, more to Anthony than Ezra. The redhead gave the church master a look that Ezra had seen on Crowley’s face before. It was how the fiery demon looked at Gabriel, how he looked at Satan.

“It will be alright, Anthony,” Ezra tried to reassure him. After all, this church had not only been the blonde’s prison, but also his home. There was a sick feeling of comfort that came with the burning incense and familiar shadows.

“If you don’t come back within 30 minutes, I’m coming for you,” Anthony told him. Ezra smiled and nodded as Gabriel started to escort him down the hall.

* * *

Outside the air was full of hostility and chaos. The people of Tadfield were plagued with the thought of going against the church. Hastur and Ligur helped them express what they had been feeling for a long time. They started from the edge of the town, letting their frustration and fear bubble into the hearts of humans. The outline was made, and from there, as the day went on, the people started to gather in the main square.

“Let’s put an end to this fear!” A man yelled, pointing in the direction of the church. “It’s time to demand our freedom back!”

Shadwell, pushed the man off the bench, making room for himself to stand above the crowd. His wife gave him an unimpressed look, but she and Newt helped the old man up all the same.

“How long have we been paying money to that church? They take from us every month and the service leaves us wanting. Gabriel is a tyrant!” Shadwell yelled, and the crowd of people agreed. “And he doesn’t even believe in witches!”

Madame Tracy shook her head at her husband’s foolishness, he was losing the crowd’s enthusiasm fast. She stepped up onto the bench herself, looking around at all the tired faces.

“It’s time to make Tadfield a town of love again! Down with the church!” She yelled, and soon the people started chanting with her. Fists were raised in the air, people were laughing out of joy, and some lifted their pitchforks in true riot fashion.

Hastur and Ligur smiled as they watched everything happen from the shadows.

* * *

Gabriel’s hold on Ezra became tighter once they rounded the corner, it was almost like a branding touch. He assumed they would talk once they made it to Ezra’s room, but Gabriel turned in a different direction.

“Wait, where are you taking me?” Ezra demanded to know. He was tired of people manhandling him, forcing him to go along with everyone else’s plan. The large solid doors to the church underground came into view and dread filled Ezra’s nearly empty stomach. He felt as if he were about to vomit at the sight of them, tremors started to attack his body, but Gabriel’s grip was strong and he pulled him along.

“We’re going to summon that demon of yours, end him once and for all.”

Ezra struggled as best he could, but Gabriel pulled a small knife from the contents of his robe pockets. He pressed it against the blonde’s quivering neck, the blade sinking down, almost cutting him.

“I don’t care if you kill me,” Ezra said, and the look in his blue eyes proved he meant those words. “You’ve already destroyed my spirit. I’ve become as confused and empty as this church. What difference would killing me make now? I already feel dead.”

Ezra hadn’t known he felt so terrible until he said it out loud. His words made sense and the tears came, but he felt a sense of obligation. Crowley had been through enough, summoning him here to torture him further wouldn’t do any good. And besides, if Gabriel was killed, and Crowley was summoned, he’d take Ezra back with him to Hell. The blade pressed even further against his neck.

“I don’t need you alive, Ezra, I only need your blood.” Gabriel grabbed Ezra by his hair and forced him to walk down the dark stone steps. The church master grabbed the nearby candle holder that held seven long, white candles. The flames were small and Ezra could barely see in front of himself with Gabriel holding the light behind him. He could feel the sharpness of the blade pointed at his back.

“Move, or I’ll push you down the steps,” he threatened, so Ezra moved. He felt like a ghost as he stepped further into the darkness. He began to disassociate from his body, watching himself as he was forced to keep moving. When they reached the bottom, Gabriel hurried to remove the candles from the holder, placing them in a circle. He traced in the dirt with his finger, writing out symbols that looked familiar. There wasn’t any way for Ezra to escape without any light as a guide. The steps were long and winded, and if he tried to run, Gabriel could quickly catch him. He stood there watching the church master, shaking his head from side to side like he was broken.

“Don’t, don’t,” he kept begging, but the master refused to listen. Gabriel grabbed him harshly and pulled him near the circle. Ezra screamed like his life was being pulled from his body, but no one would help him, no one could hear him. His scream echoed in the darkness, dying against the ancient walls of the underground. Gabriel used his knife and sliced Ezra’s palm, the cut deep and the blood spilled instantly.

The circle lit, and a clawed hand reached up out of the light. Serpent eyes glowed like a terrible beast in the darkness and a wind came from the very pits of Hell. It chilled them, Ezra’s robes blew from the force.

“Aziraphale!” The demon growled, his voice was desperate and angry. The cut on the blonde’s hand burned and he backed up as far as he could.

“Crowley!” Gabriel yelled out, his violet eyes shined like he wasn’t human anymore, but it was from the reflection of the summoning light.

The demon’s full focus was on the church master now and he hissed like a real serpent. Golden eyes locked onto the threat, his clawed hand lifting to attack.

“You sssseek death so badly?”

“No,” Gabriel replied, pulling a small bottle of holy water from his robe. His knife was still firmly held in his hand. “I seek your death.”

_-_

* * *

Bricks were thrown against the stain glass windows of the church, shattering the colored glass onto the floor. The riot from outside broke down the doors, people had torches in hand, setting fire to the curtains and wooden panels inside the church. Soon it smelled of nothing but smoke. Black clouds made it impossible to see, and numerous nuns and church disciples rushed to find an exit.

Anthony had started to panic, running down the halls, blindly looked for Ezra. People were screaming as if they were being murdered, burning candles were pushed to the ground and doors were torn down.

“Ezra!” Anthony yelled out. He couldn’t spot the blonde head of curls anywhere. “Ezra! Answer me!”

People rushed past him, nearly knocking him over multiple times. They were all running to get out of the church, while Anthony was running further inside. He needed to get to the angel, he needed to save him. In all his life, Anthony had never felt so scared of losing someone before. He cursed himself for ever letting Gabriel take him away. Anthony came to two large wooden doors near the end of the main hall and he pushed them open. He was met with darkness so black, it tried to pull him in. For some reason, he felt that Ezra was down there, he knew he needed to find a way to get to him. The redhead rushed to grab one of the remaining candle holders nearby and raced down the stone steps.

“Ezra!” He screamed again, he could hear a terrible hiss echo off the walls like a serpent was waiting at the bottom. “Ezra, please answer me!”

And then he saw him, he saw his angel, the dim glow from candlelight illuminated his dead eyes. The blonde was staring at a creature with flaming hair and black wings that rustled in the camouflage of the dark around them. Serpentine eyes turned to look at him, widening in surprise as they stared.

Anthony nearly dropped his light as he studied the face, it was his own. As if Ezra had woken from a trance, his eyes lit up and he rushed to run over to him. Anthony wrapped an arm protectively around the shaking man, not taking his eyes off his clone. The demon watched as Ezra went, blinking as the angel moved to stand by Anthony. His eyes stared at the hand that touched the blonde's side.

_-_

* * *

Ezra didn’t know how Anthony managed to find him, but he didn’t think too much about it. He rushed over to him, the surprise in his face was evident, but expected. Just as Ezra turned around he saw Gabriel taking advantage of Crowley being distracted. He doused the knife with holy water and plunged it into the demon’s chest. The church master’s face contorted into a wicked smile as he watched smoke fizz out from Crowley’s body. The demon growled in pain. Ezra could help but scream, the scene was hard to watch.

Crowley’s body started to crack like glass, but the demon reached his clawed hand up and tore through Gabriel’s flesh, ripping out the human’s dark heart. Gabriel fell to his knees in an instant, the shine in his eyes disappeared and his body laid soulless in the dirt. The demon turned to watch them, Anthony reached for Ezra’s hand, trying to pull the blonde away.

“Aziraphale is waiting for you,” Ezra cried as he watched the demon start to disappear.

“The church is burning, it's going to fall, we need to leave,” Anthony told him, tugging on his hand to get him to go. He reluctantly started moving, he felt like he was saying one of the hardest goodbyes of his life.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said before he vanished completely, and Ezra felt his heartbreak. He sincerely wished that the demon could finally find rest.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the chapter everyone has been waiting for. Crowley and Aziraphale are finally reunited. And there is sex. 
> 
> Enjoy! The last chapter will be out soon <3

Crowley kept seeing the face of his own human reincarnation rather than darkness. He expected darkness, not a better reflection of himself. The confusion had been evident in _his non-demonic eyes_ , the look of terror familiar. Crowley had tried to take his angel away from his own self, but not even he could be so evil. He let go then, in those few seconds before the end. He had lowered his defenses and a moment later pain plunged through him. It hurt, but it wasn’t the worst of suffering he’d experienced. Death came for him like one last kiss goodbye. Crowley didn’t know what to expect from actual death, he just knew he had longed for it forever. His body wasn’t pulled apart, or eaten in flames, no, the only discomfort was the ache in his soul. The ache that had existed since Aziraphale’s last breath.

The demon’s body felt warm, but pleasantly so, like he was basking in the rays of sunlight. A bright glow tried to wake him through closed eyelids, letting him know that he was outside. He lifted an arm up to shield his eyes from the light. Crowley then opened them in disbelief. The sun was shining down on his naked body, green, plush grass grew underneath him, and the babbling of a stream flowed nearby. He sat up, his whole body trembling and out of control. The beauty of this garden, the heavenly breeze of air, the way the fruit hung off trees, everything was just like Eden. Though Crowley had lived a lifetime on the outside, he could never forget the actual garden of Eden. He looked down to make sure he still had his human limbs, fearing he had shifted back into a serpent, but all his fingers and toes were accounted for.

Crowley stood up then, looking around, taking in the unique smell of God’s blessing and forbidden fruit. Birds flew above, and a few animals ran off with their mates by their side, leaping into the thick brush that surrounded him. The demon turned, gazing out as far as he could through the trees. Something white shined against the sun, something holy and beautiful. Crowley’s legs moved before he even thought to use them. His body rushed forward, fighting against the leaves and branches, making his way to the clearing by the water. He was making so much noise, but all he could hear was his hammering heart within his chest. The heart that he hadn’t felt or heard in the longest time.

White wings folded neatly against the angel’s back, a head of blonde curls turned to glance behind. Blue eyes stared at Crowley, blue eyes that recognized him, saw him, knew him.

“Crowley?” The voice reached his ears, traveling all the way inside his hollow body, clenching around his heart. Aziraphale didn’t wait for the demon to reply, instead, the angel rushed forward, arms outstretched until he jumped into Crowley’s surprised embrace, knocking them both to the ground.

“Aziraphale?” the demon’s voice was so fragile and soft, it barely came out at all. “Aziraphale.” The blonde pressed a kiss against the demon’s lips, the feel of his love sparking life back into Crowley’s cold soul. Tears had been running down both of their faces. Tears that didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. “You’re my Aziraphale?”

“Always,” the angel answered, smiling down at wide, serpent eyes as Crowley’s arms tightened around him. “I’ve always been yours, Crowley, my love.”

The demon held on and his breath caught violently in his throat. Aziraphale kept kissing him, on his lips, his forehead, anywhere the angel could reach. His hands cupped Crowley’s cheeks, pulling him closer and closer with more desperation.

Crowley pulled back to stare into blue eyes again, his heart was swelling too much to be let down again. The love was there, easy to see, taking away every painful doubt the demon had. His serpentine eyes trailed down to his neck, noticing the fading scar of Crowley’s mark. The mark he had left behind millennia ago. It hadn’t stuck to the human reincarnation’s skin, remembering the way it erased itself, but his Aziraphale wore it proudly. This was his angel, his Aziraphale, not another copy or illusion. Shaking limbs brought their way up to entangle in soft blonde curls, but Aziraphale captured one of the demon’s hands. Warm lips pressed against the thin skin of Crowley’s wrist, causing his heartbeat to flutter like a bird under his attention. Tears fell against his heated skin like drops of rainwater that seeped into his flesh.

“I’ve been waiting for so long,” the angel said in a whisper, his voice slightly muffled from the way his mouth was against Crowley’s body. “You’ve kept me waiting so long, you slow serpent!”

The demon didn’t understand Aziraphale’s words, he couldn’t understand how or why he lay in the garden with him either, but he knew he wanted to make love to him. Crowley lowered his hands so that he could trace along the line of the blonde’s curved back. His angel was always so warm, a being that was made out of sunshine itself. The white robe he wore wrinkled under the demon’s touch, and Crowley kissed him again as he pulled the fabric up.

“Aziraphale,” he said aloud, in between his kisses. He kept saying the angel’s name over and over, like that would make this dream last by sheer will alone. His fingertips felt the familiar softness and holy bliss of the blonde’s body. Every dip, wrinkle, and curve he had long printed to memory was there, every gasp and moan a nostalgic sound to his ears. “It’s really you.”

Crowley slipped the light robe up over the angel’s round bottom, bringing it all the way to the middle of his back. The demon was free of restricting clothes, his cock had already raised from the first contact with his angel. And this was his angel, no doubt about it. His angel, his mate, his Aziraphale. The sweet scent of heaven still clung to his skin, his white feathers caught the light of the sun like glittering snow. Crowley adored him, Crowley adored him so much he felt himself falling all over again. The pounding of his heart beat against the cage of bones that made up his lanky form. His claws pressed indents into the angel’s white skin.

Crowley’s member was hot and thick, pressing against Aziraphale’s plush tummy. His hungry hands moved away from the hiked up robe, stretching out as wide as they could to feel the soft expanse of flesh. He grabbed the blonde’s ass, squeezing it until the angel melted even more. The demonic fire that had been barely burning before, became ablaze with his desire so close to him. He burned from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to connect himself with the only other being who made him feel whole.

“I’ve been here, in the garden,” Aziraphale breathed into his ear, as Crowley rocked against him. The weight of his angel, the holy heat from his body, and the silk of his robe all pressed against the demon’s aching cock. It was too much and yet not enough at the same time. He’d been denied his angel for so long, and he’d be dammed again if he’d allow any more time to pass by with them separated a second longer “I’ve been here waiting for you.”

“Shh, shh,” Crowley hushed him, kissing away the tears that rained down on the demon’s face. The glow of the sun caught in his hair, imitating a golden halo above the angel’s curls. “I won’t let you go, never again, Aziraphale.”

A breeze washed over the garden, making the tall grass and trees sway. The birds sang above, and clouds rolled along like lazy breath in the sky. Crowley flipped their bodies, laying his angel beneath him. His own dark wings caught the light, casting a rainbow of color that reflected against the blackest of feathers. The demon’s eyes were blown wide and starved for the angel before him. He leaned down to kiss along the jaw of his lover, pushing forth all the words he wanted to say, but got stuck in his throat. Aziraphale heard them, felt what Crowley wanted to say with each press of his lips.

The demon’s fingers brushed along the blonde’s stomach, traveling slowly until they reached the wetness between the angel’s legs. When his pointer finger slid along the slit, Aziraphale threw his head back into the grass, letting out a whimpering sigh. Crowley pressed a kiss against his neck as he rubbed his angel’s clit. His fangs nipped along every inch of flesh the demon’s mouth came across, as he slithered his way down Aziraphale’s body.

“This is all I thought about, angel,” Crowley said before pressing a kiss to the wet folds. “All of me was always so full of you.” His long tongue licked along the clit, forcing out loud and sultry moans from the divine being. Crowley pushed his tongue inside then, massaging the tight walls, lapping up the sweetness that was made just for him. “When you left I had nothing. Without you I am nothing.”

He removed his mouth from the angel’s messy cunt, replacing it with his fingers, just to keep Aziraphale full. The flushed skin of the blonde was delicious and no matter how much time had passed, Crowley remembered seeing this sight like it was yesterday. His heart was near bursting, his control on the verge of snapping in two. The ache of his cock demanded to enter his angel’s warm channel soon. He had already spent what seemed like an eternity away from it already.

“Crowley, don’t keep me waiting anymore,” Aziraphale breathed out in between his moans. The angel reached down to wrap a warm hand around the redhead’s member. The touch alone was enough to make Crowley come, but he restrained himself. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

With that, the demon lined himself up to Aziraphale’s entrance, pressing forward with a teasing poke. The head of his cock rubbed against the angel's starved pussy, wet and begging to be filled.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale whined, and with his name uttered in such a desperate way, the demon’s control broke. His effort pressed its way inside, the tight walls hugged him so nicely, it felt like coming home after years of being alone. Once he was fully seated inside, both of them let out an exhale of air, savoring the feel of being one flesh again. Crowley’s cock slowly dragged against the wet sides until he was nearly out of the warmth except for the tip. He slammed back in, the pace of his hips punishing and wild. The demon kept his thrusts constant and powerful, taking in every sloppy noise of the angel's cunt, and the moaning of his name. This was all Crowley had ever wanted, this angel beneath him was his whole Heaven and Earth.

“Kiss me,” Aziraphale begged, and Crowley’s whole being was compelled to oblige. Every request the angel asked of him, the demon could never ignore. Crowley gave him everything he had and what was leftover that too. He pressed his mouth against Aziraphale’s own, the rough pumps of his hips making their teeth clash once or twice.

Crowley changed their position again, sitting upright, placing his angel down on his lap. This angle let their wings brush against each other’s, the static touch of feathers sending shivers up and down their spines. Aziraphale sank down on the demon’s length over and over again like he’d die if he didn’t. Crowley’s hot mouth moved from the angel’s lips, back over to his faded mark left behind long ago. He kissed it and sucked against the scar, worshipping the visible reminder than this gorgeous creature had always been his.

Crowley could feel the walls tightening around him, just as his own effort wanted release. But neither of them wanted this reunion to end. Neither of them wished for their coupling to be over. The demon was terrified that if he let go, then everything would disappear and he would be alone again in the pits of Hell. But Aziraphale’s sweet sounds, that followed the angel’s orgasm were too much for Crowley to hold anything back. His fangs broke into the skin of Aziraphale’s neck, biting him right where the mark remained. He pushed as deep as he could get himself, and released hard inside his angel.

They clung to each other, both panting and heavy in the afterglow of sex. Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s bloodied mouth away from his neck, placing it back against his lips.

_-_

* * *

They were wrapped in each other’s arms and wings, brushing skin against skin as much as possible.

“Tell me this is real, angel,” Crowley said with so much vulnerability in his voice, he’d never dare use the tone with anyone else. “I can’t bear to lose you again.”

Aziraphale lifted his head to brush his lips against the demon’s, letting his warm breath tease him into a kiss.

“It’s real,” he replied. “After Lucifer killed my corporation and you killed him. God sent me here in this restored Eden. It was supposed to be your reward for taking out Her adversary, but things happened. You were a prisoner in Hell and I, well, even being in Eden was a prison without you.”

“You’ve been, waiting just as long as I have?” Crowley reached for the angel’s hands, pressing kisses to the tips of every finger. When Aziraphale nodded, the demon couldn’t stop the tears. It was one thing to be in anguish himself, but to hear his angel had suffered along with him was more than he could handle. “She shouldn’t have kept us apart, angel. I’m no good without you.”

“I couldn’t reach you, not until you found my reincarnation. I tried sending him dreams, my emotions, just to tell you I was here. I was afraid you fell in love with him and forgot me.”

“Never,” Crowley growled like the words physically hurt him. “I tried to love your reincarnation because he was the only glimpse of you I thought I’d get. But he wasn’t you.” Aziraphale smiled at him, pulling the demon as close as he could get him. They embraced each other on the garden’s floor, a pair just like all the other creatures in Eden.

“You certainly got into a lot of trouble while I was gone,” the angel scolded playfully.

“If anyone tries to take you from me again, even God, I’ll tear every atom of Heaven, Earth, and Hell apart. I swear it.”

“No one will bother us here, not again. She promised. Her plan from the start was--,”

“Don’t say ineffable,” Crowley warned. He didn’t want to hear that word used to describe the lasting torment he and his angel went through. His bitterness towards Her hadn’t wavered just because She gave him back his mate. Aziraphale was his, not Hers. And Crowley felt She had no right separating them in the first place.

“No, not ineffable,” Aziraphale said, “ Cruel.”

The demon opened his eyes at the strong word. Aziraphale had never dared to say anything against Heaven or God before, but Crowley knew how pain could change someone. Pain could change the shape of anything, even an angel’s devotion.

“Mm,” Crowley agreed, pressing his erection against the angel’s thigh. “Well let me replace the cruelty with compassion, and you can worship me instead. Just as I worship you.”

A smile caught in Aziraphale’s deep blue eyes, followed by a devilish smirk. He changed his effort to match Crowley’s own, rubbing his chubby cock on the demon's skin.

“This temple’s ready for your offering.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you for sticking with me through this story. I am so grateful for each comment, all the kudos and the shares. You guys helped me through a really rough time and made writing exciting. I hope that you follow me through my next long fic! I love you~

_A Sunday smile, you wore it for a while_   
_A cemetery mile, we paused and sang_   
_A Sunday smile -Beirut_

* * *

After the riot, the town’s anger had dissipated, but the guilt was so thick it left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. Gabriel was the only one who had died during the outburst, his body was carried from the darkness only to be buried on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Ezra had cried for him, he cried for the happy memories the church master had left him. The moments were brief, and the pain of the past easily swallowed them, but even Gabriel’s hate was no match for Ezra’s kind heart.

Ezra had no idea what life offered him anymore, he had nowhere to go. As the rain splashed against his umbrella during the funeral, Anthony reached for his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. Most of the church’s disciples and followers were out of a place to stay. The damage on the inside of the building was devastatingly irreversible, the whole space seemed haunted by bad omens. Villagers offered their homes to them, Madame Tracy extended her home to Ezra as long as he wanted it. It felt like a fine enough arrangement, but as he began to head back to the carriage Anthony had tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“Have you ever been to the beach, angel?” He asked with a nervous smile. “Ever seen the thick forests on the other side of Tadfield?”

Ezra shook his head no. He hadn’t been anywhere besides the church, where the church wanted him, and Hell. All of those destinations eerily similar, as he was a prisoner of each. Anthony’s touch remained on his shoulder, the weight of it comforting and kind. Beautiful brown eyes blinked at the ground, while the sound of rain fell all around them. Even though Ezra had his own umbrella, the redhead held his towards him, letting his back catch the sliding droplets. He looked up then, smile wide and charming as he squeezed the blonde’s hand once more.

“Well, would you like to?”

Ezra’s bottom lip quivered as he tried to hold his emotions back, he had already cried far too much for Gabriel. But crying for the death of a man he had never actually understood, was nothing for the tears he wanted to cry for himself, but Ezra knew better than to wallow in self-pity. He had no idea why Anthony was so continuously kind to him, but his heart danced at the idea of leaving Tadfield for as long as possible.

* * *

So he let Anthony take him to places he’d only read about before. His blue eyes pulled in every sight, his lungs took in breaths of fresh air. Ezra let his bare feet walk on the sandy beaches at night, he hiked through forest trails and even indulged in foods with names that were hard to pronounce. All the while, his relationship with his traveling companion grew into something too powerful for words. They weren’t any good when they were separated from each other, but became the best versions of themselves together. Anthony’s voice had spoken words so beautiful they were like golden thread that stitched Ezra’s broken soul. Not all of the pieces came together, but what he had leftover, Anthony promised was more than enough.

Years had passed, but they held each other’s hands tightly through them. There was soft kisses and light touches that made Ezra feel worth something, worth love. They would lay together in different places, sometimes in nice beds at inns, other times under the stars. Anthony would trace his scars and Ezra would do the same over the redhead’s marred skin. Though Ezra knew he was scarred and overweight, Anthony called him angel when he was both dressed and undressed, and it healed him a little more each time he said it.

The pain of the past had been hard to overcome, and the blonde found that he couldn’t freely step inside a church building for the longest time. He never had to, but every time he passed a church in a new town, his stomach would lurch forward and his head would hurt. Anthony noticed right away, and would try his best to avoid places he heard church bells tolling. As a distraction, he would hand the reigns over to Ezra to give him something else to think about, steering the carriage offered him a different kind of anxiety. 

It seemed that the memories of Tadfield haunted Anthony as well. Ezra would find the man looking at crosses sold in market squares, looking as if he were afraid to touch them. His brown eyes would become hazy for a second before they brighten at Ezra’s touch. They both knew that he looked exactly like the demon, they both believed him to be the serpent’s reincarnation. He had only asked about Crowley once, a year after the funeral, and it wasn’t a question Ezra had been expecting.

“Was he really unforgivable?”

“Not to me,” Ezra replied as genuine as he could manage. The blonde went on to explain everything he knew from what the demon told him. Anthony sat and listened, soaking up the story like it was actual scripture. He reached for Ezra’s hand and pressed a kiss to the worn skin of his knuckle. 

“I hope he’s with his, angel,” Anthony whispered, his brown eyes drank in every inch of Ezra as he said it.

“I’m sure he is.”

* * *

Anthony brought Ezra to a special corner of the world to watch the sunrise. He stood beside him with a goofy smile until he got down on one knee. Ezra sucked in a breath so quickly he nearly choked, but Anthony looked up at him with loving eyes. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came for the longest time. Instead, he nodded his head, vigorously, smiling as Anthony bounced up to catch him in a kiss. They laughed in between their kisses, both unable to stop the giddy feelings of marriage welling up inside them. Ezra wasn’t ready to step foot inside a church, and most of the small towns would refuse their love, but those things seemed so small compared to their feelings for each other. They were married that day, they exchanged vows as the bright sun rose above the water in the distance. The glow of it warmed their skin, as did their happiness.

Anthony had rings made in secret, and he smiled like an excited child as he slipped the golden band onto the blonde’s finger. Ezra had a habit of playing with the ring, fidgeting with it whenever he became anxious or bored. The first time he had pulled it off completely, his eyes caught and engraving that he hadn’t noticed before. On the inner circle of the band were the words, _‘my angel’,_ a claim that Ezra basked in, just like rays of sunlight. There was no greater medicine than loving and being loved in return.

And time claimed to heal all wounds, but Ezra found that it really didn’t. What time really did, was create a distance between him and his younger self, enough distance that helped him forgive. In his dreams, Ezra would meet with his childhood self and beg forgiveness, feeling his heartbreak for how much he’d allowed himself to endure. He let himself be loved then, showing kindness to himself even though it was difficult. But the darkest of moments were painted prettier with his husband at his side.

* * *

Four years of traveling had worn on them both, the wanderlust inside them dimming like a dying fire. While the traveling had been healing and helped Ezra grow, the desire to take root somewhere became overwhelming. There was a small town near one of the bigger cites, a place by the sea and land covered in flowers. It reminded Ezra of the dream of Eden Aziraphale had shown him. One pleading look was all it took for Anthony to agree with his spouse. On a cliff overlooking the water and old abandoned cabin sat, an outline of their new home. Both of them found it perfect and didn’t mind the effort needed to make the cabin livable. A few villagers came and helped out, happy to have new neighbors in such a small community. 

Little by little, the old wood was restored and the roof replaced, and warmth filled Ezra every time he stepped inside the home. They had built it together, shaped it to fit their needs. It wasn’t a large home, but it was more than enough for them. Owning their own land, and staying put long enough for Ezra to buy things he had always wanted became more than a dream. He stacked piles of books in the loft, running his fingers over each spine with a bright smile. Anthony played into the joy too, smiling from ear to ear every time he stepped inside to receive a kiss from his partner. It felt good, it felt right.

When they would cuddle together on their own bed, fingers intertwined and bodies pressed close, everything was perfect. The sound of Anthony’s voice made Ezra forget about everything that had happened to him. The smell of his skin and the press of his lips formed new memories and new sensations to focus on. Each kiss scorched Ezra, branding his soul, searing the two together like they were always meant to be one.

Anthony’s hands were rough from hard work, but they were gentle with him. They caressed Ezra’s body as if he were something precious, and to Anthony he was. The press of their naked bodies fueled their love, their desire for each other. The world around them froze each time they connected in this intimate way.

“Angel,” Anthony’s voice was low and drunk off love. He pressed another kiss to Ezra’s throat while he stretched His husband open. “I’m really no good without you.”

Ezra’s mind had already melted from the foreplay earlier, but he hummed and ran his fingers through fiery red hair. Anthony sucked harshly on the blonde’s skin, drawing out a low moan from Ezra’s lips.

“No,” he said with his mouth hot on Ezra’s neck. The words buzzed against flesh, vibrating everything within his body. “No, I—I mean it, Ezra. You make me want to be good. The best, even. I have to be the best so I can stay next to you.”

Anthony added another finger while he looked down at the pleasured face of his husband. He drank in the sight of Ezra’s rapture, took his fill like the sight alone could sustain him forever.

“W-what are you saying?” Ezra’s voice was breathy and weak, but his hands wrapped around Anthony’s neck firmly. “You’re my better half, don’t you know? You saved me, Anthony. You gave me hope when—ah.”

Ezra’s eyes rolled back as his husband removed his fingers and pressed his member inside. The familiar stretch and feel of Anthony inside him removed all thoughts and words from his brain. The blonde tightened his hold on his lover, pulling at his short hair until he brought his lips closer.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Anthony teased, pressing more kisses to Ezra’s neck. “I just couldn’t wait any longer.” And he started to rock his hips, unable to keep still, the love he felt too overwhelming to hold him back. His cock slowly dragged in and out of Ezra, massaging his husband’s tight walls with his hot and hard shaft, forcing moans and whimpers out of him like an instrument.

They kissed, over and over, their hands found each other, locking together as their souls blended into one. The way Anthony held him, made love to him, saw him, always made Ezra feel dizzy and full. Sometimes when they were together, Ezra found his heart aching for Crowley and Aziraphale, and how they were separated for so long. It was too painful for him to imagine a week away from his husband, let alone the thousands of years they endured.

Ezra’s mouth opened wide as he let out a gasp while he came, he brought Anthony with him. The sweat of their bodies and heat of their skin had blended into one slow fire. Limbs tangled even more and a head of red hair rested on Ezra’s heaving chest.

“I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for you,” he said as he kissed his husband’s messy locks. “You helped me escape. You are my escape, my whole world.”

Anthony looked up, smiling with his big brown eyes through his dark lashes. His long fingers traced long his husband’s face, worshiping the way he was drawn.

“And you’re mine,” he said. “You’re stuck with me, Ezra. In this life and the next, and all that comes after. I’ll come to you, wherever you are and marry you over and over. Besides, it’s not every day a man can say he’s married to an actual angel. I plan to keep bragging about that until my dying breath, and even then.”

Ezra pulled him closer, drawing him in for a chaste kiss.

It was how it was meant to be. Nothing else in Ezra’s life had felt so compelling or whole as when they were together like this. Despite what may come, sickness or death, Ezra had a belief that they would always find one another, in any and every life they were given.

_fin_. 


End file.
